


Just to Lead Me to You

by Squid Squad (TerminalMiraculosis)



Series: Operation 24 [8]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Prequel, Toxic Relationships, all in all though I wouldn't call this an 'angst fic' or anything, definitely still a lot of humor and stuff, last one guys!, some trigger warnings:, there are lots of timeskips in the middle chapters so just be prepared for that, this one is a tad darker and a tad sadder fair warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21514111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminalMiraculosis/pseuds/Squid%20Squad
Summary: One day, Amy got on a train to Inkopolis, searching for a new start. About two years later, Agent 3 asked Eight out on a date. This is about all the stuff in between.A prequel fic to the Operation 24 series. Could hypothetically be read first, I guess, but is designed to be read last.
Relationships: Agent 3/Agent 8 (Splatoon), Marina/Pearl (Splatoon)
Series: Operation 24 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1269347
Comments: 40
Kudos: 120





	1. The Agent and the Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Hero Time!

Amy sat on the hard train seat, listening to the wheels clatter against the rails. She had her backpack sitting in her lap, her suitcase between her feet, her wallet in her pocket, and literally nothing else. She let out a deep breath and tried not to think about the future.

She picked a discarded newspaper up off the train floor to try to distract herself, but found the front-page headlines to be unamusing. They were all about politics, or foreign relations, or other bullshit that she couldn’t care less about. She flipped to the sports section, and was greeted with some girl holding up a trophy and smiling way too smugly at the camera. With nothing better to do, Amy sighed and began reading.

_ 18-year-old Lynn Lothamer set records today as the youngest Inkling to ever win the National Turf War Championship, along with the other three representatives from Inkopolis: Jane Eywall, Harriet Tremors, and Jackson Derrymore, all long-time staples of the Inkopolis turfing scene with much more experience under their belts compared to their young teammate. While Inkopolis taking home the gold isn’t much of a surprise, Lothamer took the championship by storm, proving that experience isn’t everything. In a post-finals interview, she mentioned that she will likely be forming a turfing team of her own after this event, stating she has some friends from her private high school, Inkblot Academy, that know their way around an arena. _

Amy stuck out her tongue and dropped the newspaper. Ugh. Private schoolers; what assholes. Amy bet she could wipe the floor with this ‘Lynn’ prick with one hand behind her back. What a load of shit.

“Not to pry,” said a voice from behind her, “but shouldn’t a kid like you be in school right about now?”

Amy turned to the elderly inkling sitting next to her and made a face. “Shouldn’t a fossil like you be dead right about now?”

The old man looked at her and laughed through his beard, which was not the response Amy was used to receiving when she insulted someone to their face. “I’ve still got a few years left in me. Headed to Inkopolis, are you?”

“What are you, a cop?”

The man laughed again. “Not exactly. I’m going there, too. To visit my grandchildren.” He leaned on that bamboo cane of his, and smiled to himself. “I don’t get to see them in person very often these days. Our jobs keep us busy.”

“Uh huh.” Amy really hoped this wouldn’t continue for the rest of the train ride.

“Mmm. Maybe surrounding myself with such youthful energy is what had been keeping me so spry over the years. I should get back in touch, if only for my skin health.”

Amy squinted at him. “…Right.”

She let his talking fade off into the background, and turned to look out the train window as the scenery flashed past. Well… this was it. Inkopolis or bust. She certainly couldn’t go back home, so she’d have to make it work. 

And she could totally make it work! It’d be fine. She’d get a job, and an apartment, and it’d be fine.

* * *

Amy could not make it work. It was not fine.

As it happened, landlords didn’t rent out apartments to sixteen-year-olds with next to no money. So she’d had a great first night in the city, sleeping on the roof of the apartment complex.

And then because her life was simply going far too fucking well, and obviously the universe had to balance out all the good fortune she’d been showered with this past week, the Great Zapfish himself had gone missing, so now they were running a third of the normal turf war blocks due to spawn power management. So now she couldn’t even fucking turf. And don’t forget that she still had nowhere to live. Because she didn’t. And she only had enough money to eat for another week or so.

At least she didn’t have to see Mom.

Grabbing her bags, she super-jumped off the roof of the apartment building and dropped down onto the street, scaring a nearby couple half to death. She shoved her hands into her pockets and began stomping towards Inkopolis Plaza for breakfast.

And then she saw that old man from the train poke his head out of a sewer grate. 

What the fuck. 

He looked around a few times, made eye contact with Amy, and shlurped back down though the hole.

What the fuck.

Amy really wanted to just keep walking and try to forget about it, because, as stated: What the fuck. But her body had other plans, apparently, and she found herself peering into the grate.

It did not lead to the sewers. This was not a normal grate. There was some… weird light inside it, that seemed to warp and distort the more she looked at it. Like a picturesque skyscape had been ripped out of reality, balled up, and thrown inside.

Three sighed, prepared for the worst, and jumped. 

* * *

“A  _ kid?” _ Agent 1 exclaimed. “Gramps, you hired a  _ kid _ to fight an  _ army?” _

“Yeah, and I’ve been doing a damn good job of it, you incognito motherfucker.”

Agent 2 looked at Three. It was hard to discern her expression past her face mask. “She’s got one hell of a mouth on her, that’s for sure.”

“You wanna go? Gonna run away and shoot me like a charger-using coward?”

“Okay, you seriously need to chill,” Two said flatly. 

Agent 1 sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Can she even legally work for us? She’s like fifteen!”

Three crossed her arms. “I’m  _ sixteen _ so you can shut the  _ fuck  _ up.”

“Three here cleared two areas in the Valley today,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said. 

Agent 1’s jaw dropped open. “No way. In a single day?”

He nodded. “In about six hours, yes.”

“Both bark and bite, I guess,” Agent 2 noted, starting to give Three a closer look. “Who are you?”

“Not the one wearing a mask is who,” Three said. Seriously. They were asking her all sorts of questions, but didn’t even have the balls to show their faces? Pussies.

Agent 2 gave a sharp laugh. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“You never answered my question,” One said, frowning. “Regardless of her abilities, is this even legal?”

“Fourteen is the legal working age in Inkopolis,” Cuttlefish said simply.

“Yeah, but this is—”

“Hey, is it okay if I crash in your cabin tonight?” Three interrupted. “That way I can get started smashing octo ass right when I wake up.”

“Sure thing,” Cap’n said.

“Do you need to call anyone?” asked Two. “You can use my phone if you want.”

“No,” Three said.

* * *

Agent 3 walked into the cabin and practically slammed the door behind her.

“Well damn,” Marie said. “I was just asking.”

Callie frowned. Something was off here. “Gramps, who is that kid? Like, where did you find her?”

Gramps shrugged, adjusting his cap. “Sat next to her on the train when I was coming back from your parents’ place in Calamari Country,” he explained. “I felt like she was exactly what we needed, and we were exactly what she needed.”

“Oh, I think I get it,” Marie said. “Maybe you should be a bit more vague, though. Just in case.”

“Marie’s right,” Callie said, cocking a hip and looking dead into her grandpa’s eyes. “Don’t you know anything about her? Name? Origin? Why she’s apparently a good enough battler at sixteen to take down multiple Ancient Octoweapons in series?”

“Nope.”

Marie gave him a look. “Not even a  _ name?” _

“Nope.”

Callie rested her face in her hands. “And we’re depending on her to beat Octavio?”

“Well, we can probably help her with that part, but yeah.”

“Gods,” Callie said. 

“To be fair,” Marie said, “she recovered eleven zapfish in the time it took us to recover six. That’s almost twice as fast, and there’s two of us.”

“I’m not questioning her abilities,” Callie said—though, that  _ was  _ frighteningly impressive. “Just… how do we know we can trust her?”

“We can.” Gramps began. “Agent 3 is a great many things, from what I can tell. Hurt. Angry. Desperate. But she’s, I think, the furthest thing from a bad person you’re gonna find around here.”

“How would you know?” Marie asked. “You’ve only known her for a day. Less, even.”

Gramps smiled. “She reminds me of someone.”

* * *

Three was standing outside the Octarian headquarters with Agents 1 and 2. This was it. After this, DJ Octavio would be defeated, Cap’n Cuttlefish and the Great Zapfish would be rescued, and Three…

Would have nowhere to live again.

Cool. So, anyway.

“I hope the captain was right about you,” Agent 2 mumbled under her breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Three asked. “I’ve carried your sorry asses this far, haven’t I? I’m not gonna drop the ball here and fuck all this up for us.”

“That’s… oddly sweet of you, Three,” said Agent 1. “And we’ll be right behind you. We’ve got a trick up our sleeves.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Three mused, raising her hero shot. “Let’s go kick some DJ ass.”

* * *

Zadie speed-walked across the metal catwalk towards the Octobot King’s hangar. She wanted to run, but safety regulations demanded that they not run on the catwalks. It was a dumb rule. Zadie had fantastic coordination and was confident she could run back and forth on these catwalks all day without falling to her untimely death and wasting spawn power—but Zadie was not one to break the rules, so she speed-walked.

When she reached the hangar, the DJ was there, his back to the door. He was talking with someone who, if Zadie remembered correctly, was the head engineer. S-01-A, she believed. They didn’t talk much. Or at all, really—Zadie’s squad worked with S-02, when they worked with sci-ops at all.

S-01-A noticed her and mentioned something to Octavio before grabbing a wrench and jumping inside the King’s plating. The DJ gave Zadie a nod, and she approached.

“Report, sir.”

He motioned for her to continue.

“Agent 3 cleared out Area 4 about half an hour ago. Our scouts say she and the rest of the Splatoon just arrived at the entrance to the HQ. Judging by Agent 3’s previous pace, she should arrive here in roughly two hours.”

DJ Octavio grumbled to himself, and slammed a boot against the ground. “Shit _. _ We need more time before the Octobot King is ready. The damn fists aren't spinning like they're supposed to.” He turned to Zadie. “Take your squad, and any other squads you can find, and go slow down that hipster as much as you can.”

Zadie nodded, and walked off.

* * *

Squad F-02 was stationed just in front of the zapfish in kettle 27; it was the last zapfish they still had besides the Great Zapfish himself. Zadie stood in the back, the long strands of seaweed woven into her tentacles rippling behind her. Her three subordinates stood in front of her, and to their left, all of the F-01 squad stood at the ready. 

“Agent 3 has hacked the third spawn point,” F-01-A said, next to her. “She’ll be here any minute. Keep your senses sharp. Our only spawns left are back at HQ, so if you get splatted, head to the arena to support the DJ once she reaches him.” She nodded at Zadie. “02-A and I are taking up the rear, so you all start the charge on my signal.”

No one expended the energy to acknowledge her; all was understood. They took their places behind the makeshift cover they’d placed around the area, and 01-A peeked out over the top of hers to track Three’s movements. Zadie heard the telltale squelches of Octarians getting splatted, and then not too long after, 01-A gave a shout.

All eight Octolings burst from their hiding spots and converged on the unsuspecting agent.  _ “Shit! That’s a lot!”  _ she cried in Inklish, retreating a few yards back through her ink.

“Cut off her paths!” Zadie shouted, chucking a splat bomb over the heads of her squadmates.

Agent 3 dropped a pair of seekers on the ground, then jumped back away from the bomb, dropping into her ink. Most of their team got out of the way, but F-01-D was caught by one of the seekers, and went up in ink. Not a second later, 02-B went down to Agent 3’s hero shot.

Agent 3 shifted her aim immediately onto 01-B with frightening precision, not wasting a single glob of ink. But just as 01-B’s body lost its form, 02-D nailed the inkling with a splattering of ink, and Zadie swam under 01-C’s feet, jumping out of her ink and firing down on Agent 3. She swore, and backed off, only to bump into 01-A, who had wrapped around behind her in the chaos.

_ “Eat shit,” _ 01-A said in crude Inklish, putting her octoshot to the agent’s head.

_ “Fuck you,” _ Agent 3 said, and dropped a slat bomb at her feet.

01-A pulled the trigger right as the bomb detonated. When the multicolor cloud of ink rained to the ground, neither cephalopod was anywhere to be seen.

“She’ll respawn soon,” 02-D said.

“Orders?” asked 01-C, looking up at her.

Zadie took stock of the situation. They’d lost the element of surprise, as well as all of squad 01 except for 01-C. Zadie’s squad was more intact, but she’d lost her second, and, to be perfectly honest with herself, she wasn’t very confident in her C and D to hold their own against Agent 3. She had a sneaking suspicion that the DJ wouldn't have enough time to get those arms working how he wanted. 

But it’s not like they could give up. That would be unthinkable treason. 

“Let’s advance on the spawn. Ink as much as you can along the way. Remember, we’re here to buy time.”

The rest of the octolings nodded, and they moved forward, erasing as much green ink as they could. It wasn’t long before they ran into Agent 3 once again, except this time, she looked  _ pissed. _

_ “You fuckers! I don’t have time to get splatted!”  _ She bared her beak and snarled, weaving in between shots and gunning down the rest of Zadie’s squad with robotic efficiency. Zadie kept firing despite it all, but Agent 3 threw a bomb down, forcing her to retreat. When she resurfaced, Agent 3 was running towards the zapfish, completely ignoring her.

_ “Hey!”  _ Zadie called.  _ “Get back here, you  _ ass-fucker!”

_ “No! I don’t have time to deal with another elite!” _ the Agent yelled over her soldier.  _ “And what’s a ‘mikero’?” _

Before Zadie could catch up with her, she’d popped the zapfish’s cage, nabbed him, and superjumped back to the kettle’s entrance.

Zadie swore. She’d finally faced Agent 3 one-on-one, and she just  _ ran? _ No. This wasn’t over. Zadie morphed into her octopus form, pressed herself against the ground, and superjumped after the agent, landing in front of the kettle.

She hesitated for a bit. If she were splatted outside of a kettle, she wouldn’t respawn. They had orders specifically not to leave their stationed kettles for that very reason.

But this was different! She also had orders to slow down Three. She’d just lay low and catch her when she went into the boss kettle. With that plan in mind, Zadie jumped through the grate.

* * *

This battle was chaos. Fists and bombs and lasers and inkzookas were being volleyed back and forth at hectic speeds as Agent 3 chased the Octobot King in circles around the arena. Tons of octarians and octolings filled the stands around the perimeter, dancing along to Octavio’s music and cheering him on. 

Zadie was having trouble getting close to Agent 3. The upside of this was that she didn’t think the agent had seen her yet, but, still, it was kind of difficult to kill her when she couldn’t reach her. 

After Zadie was nearly splatted by a chain reaction of several balloon fish, she decided to run around in the opposite direction instead. She wouldn’t be able to come up from behind this way, but at least she’d have the Octobot King’s shield as cover until she got close enough to shoot.

It was only about a half a minute of running before the looming form of the Octobot King was before her. She could see Agent 3 on the ground beyond it, though she was distracted by several octobombers Octavio had thrown out. Carefully, Zadie snuck up on her, Octoshot at the ready.

Zadie’s first few shots caught the inkling’s cheek before she reflexively swam out of range. She fired a few shots in retaliation before leaping away from one of the King’s mini-killer wails and rolling behind a block of turf. Zadie, crouched against the ground, snuck up on the other side of the cover.

_ “Hey, guys, I could really use some support right now!” _ Agent 3 said from around the corner.

Zadie paused. This could be important to hear.

_ “Sure thing, Three!”  _ said a chipper voice through Agent 3’s earpiece.  _ “Get ready!” _

_ “Radio override activated.” _ That was a different voice.

DJ Octavio’s mix suddenly cut out, and was replaced by static. And then, after a second, music.

_ “Agent 3! Can you hear our song?!” _

Zadie could.

Oh man, Zadie could. She was standing directly in front of the Octobot King’s speakers. It was  _ all _ she could hear. And it was… confusing.

The melodies of the song washed over her and those too-perfect voices latched onto her and pulled her up, up and away, and she soon was looking down at her body, standing there between Octavio and Agent 3.

“What… what am I doing?”

She saw, up from above, Agent 3 turn at the sound of Zadie’s voice. A few quick shots, and everything went black.

Zadie reformed atop the respawn point only seconds before she heard a cacophonous explosion in the distance, and the telltale sound of the spawn point’s power fizzling out. But it was all as if she were wearing muffling earphones; that song was the only thing she could hear.

_ Ya. Weni. Marei. Mirekyarahira. Juri. Yu mirekerason. _

Zadie’s head was a swirl of inscrutable thoughts and emotions as she gazed around the Domes, but she knew one thing for certain: She wanted to be able to hear that song again someday.

She wanted out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This story will be updating on Thursdays and Sundays, probably. There's one Sunday where I'm going to be on, like, a train, or some shit, so that's up in the air, but whatever. Gah, it's so weird to be like... done writing this series. It's been a big part of my life since I started it, and I've met so many cool people through it; it's very bittersweet. Well, anyway, see you in a few days!


	2. Your Own Worst Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three hangs out with friends and nothing bad happens at all.

On the way back to Cuttlefish Cabin, Three was mildly freaking out, because  _ holy shit _ One and Two were actually  _ Callie and Marie _ of the  _ Squid Sisters _ and she was a  _ huge fan _ but also she had built up a very  _ antagonistic relationship  _ with them so she wouldn’t have to share any  _ embarrassing personal details _ with them (because she could always deflect with an insult) and now if she did anything to let them know she was a huge fan they would  _ tease her without mercy _ and it would  _ ruin her cool stoic persona _ and also that would get back around to the whole  _ personal details _ thing she’d mentioned earlier in her circular mental breakdown that had been looping for about ten minutes now.

So yeah she was mildly freaking out.

“God,” Callie said from a few feet away, struggling under the weight of DJ Octavio, who was lying unconscious on her back. “Anybody else wanna carry octo-fart here? My back is killing me.”

“I carried him the first third,” Marie said matter-of-factly. “It’s Three’s turn.”

“Nah,” Three said, keeping her voice as level as possible. “You pop stars probably have like butlers and shit to carry things for you most of the time. You could use the humbling experience.”

Callie and Marie gave her flat looks.

“What?”

Callie rolled her eyes. “Three, you  _ know _ we’re secret agents, and you’re still accusing us of being lazy celebrities?” 

“Yeah, secret agents who didn’t do shit. I was the one fighting!”

“You don’t have even the  _ faintest _ idea of how many hours of surveillance and recon we put into this,” Marie snapped. “Plus, we make damn good music.”

“I hate all of your music and have never listened to any of it,” Three said immediately.

“How do you know you hate it if you’ve never heard it?” Cap’n Cuttlefish asked innocently from behind them. Three turned and glared at him while One and Two laughed.

“You guys suck.”

“Love you too, Three,” Callie said.

“Ew,” Three said, looking away to hide her smile.

* * *

Two days later, Callie shifted through the grate, taking in the unique smells of the Valley. It was nice and tranquil on the border; very different from the hustle and bustle of Inkopolis proper. She could see why Gramps liked to spend time out here. Callie might like to spend her spare hours out here, too, if she had any. But between Inkopolis News, the Squid Sisters, and agent stuff, she was a  _ tiny  _ bit pressed for time.

She stepped onto the cabin’s porch and reached for the door. Gramps shouldn’t be here right now: he’d been in the city ever since the mission ended, talking with the government and military about what had happened. He’d even crashed at her and Marie’s place last night—though, he’d been gone again by the time they woke up. 

Thus, she was surprised when she opened the door to see a figure huddled under the blankets on the futon, surrounded by wrappers from Gramps’s favorite brand of granola bars.

“…Three?”

The lump under the covers jerked upwards, and Callie was soon assaulted by a mess of thrown-off blankets. She brushed them off of her face to see Three sitting on the futon, staring at her with that unreadable expression of hers. She didn’t look… great. 

“What are you doing here?” Three demanded. 

“I’m getting my roller,” Callie answered. “What are  _ you _ doing here?”

“None of your business,” Three said. 

Callie didn’t know what she had expected. She looked from Three’s face to the floor and back again. “Well. At least now Gramps has another person who likes his disgusting granola bars.”

“He doesn’t,” Three said. “I fucking hate granola bars.”

“Oh.” Callie paused for a second, not entirely sure what to say. “So, uh. Any particular reason you’ve been living in my grandfather’s shack?”

Three’s unwavering expression wavered. Her eyes looked strangely… vulnerable. Callie had not thought that Three could ever look vulnerable, but, then again, they’d only known each other for like four or five days.

“I don’t have anywhere else,” Three said. And then shrugged, like that was No Big Deal and an Okay Thing for a sixteen year old to say.

Callie sighed and dug through her purse. “What’s your name?”

Three made a face of utter repulsion. “Excuse me?”

“Like, you know, your name?” She found her wallet, and a pen, and pulled them out. “The thing that people say so that you know they’re talking about you?”

“I know what a name is, fuckass. Why the hell do you care?”   


“You know what?” Callie grabbed a check, wrote down a number with a comfortable amount of zeroes, and scribbled in her signature. “Write it yourself.”

She handed the check over to Three, who took it tentatively, looked down, and completely lost her composure.

“What the fuck, Callie,” Three said, eyes bugging out. “Do you hand out signed checks to every fucking homeless kid you see on the street?”

“No,” Callie said. “Only the ones who are my friends, and deserve a hell of a lot better.”

Three looked up at her with complete confusion in her eyes. “I don’t… no, I can’t take this. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t… know me.”

Callie looked into Three’s eyes and frowned.

Both her and Marie had been only children growing up—that’s part of the reason they’d clung so closely to one another. Sure, they were cousins, but it’d always felt like they’d been sisters; that’s where the band name had come from. “Cousin” felt so…  _ detached. _ That was for distant family. People who you were only related to in blood. Sisters cared for each other, had each other’s backs. It was different.

Three  _ clearly _ had no decent family, so…  They might be adopting a younger sister.

“Listen very carefully, Three,” Callie said. “You are going to take that money. Gramps’ll help you find a place to stay. You’re gonna find a day job of some kind. And you’re going to be okay.”

Three nodded, rubbed her eyes, stood up, walked over to Callie, and gave her a hug.

“Tell anyone I’m doing this right now,” she said, “and I’ll papercut your tentacles into pieces.”

Callie giggled. “Right, right.”

Three broke off the hug and scurried out of the cabin. Callie smiled, sighed, and dabbed at the wet spot on her shirt where Three had put her face. 

Then she looked at the time. “Oh, Marie’s gonna kill me.” She grabbed her roller from where it leaned against the wall, and made a beeline for the grate.

* * *

**A few months later…**

Marie was in the middle of loading the dishwasher when Three walked in unannounced. She smirked, leaned against the counter, and slid the glass she was holding into place. “Oh, please, come in. No need to knock.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if you knew where I lived,” Three said.

“You really should tell us,” Callie said from the living room, looking over her magazine. “The hosting to visiting ratio is skewed beyond belief. This is exactly the kind of thing that can tear a friendship apart.”

“Callie, move,” Three said dryly. “I came here to lie down on your fancy rich person couch and you’re taking up too much fucking space.”

“Did you come here for the couch?” Callie asked coyly, moving to the armchair. “Or did you come here because you  _ liiiiiiiiiike uuuuuuuuuusssss?” _

Three faceplanted into the sofa and mumbled something unintelligible into the cushions.

“No but seriously,” Marie said, moving away from the dishwasher to lean in the doorway to the living room. “Is something up? You’re showing like twenty percent more emotion than normal. It’s weird.”

Understanding Three’s emotional process was a skill that took time to develop, considering that she usually hid all her feelings behind a thorny and surprisingly robust wall of snark and generalized aggression, but Marie was starting to get the hang of it. Callie, too, if her lack of complaining when Three asked her to move was anything to go by.

Three turned her neck so she wasn’t speaking directly into the fabric. “I lost my job.”

“Aw, shit,” Marie said, frowning. “That sucks.”

“The one at the café with the name you won’t tell us?” Callie asked.

“Yeah.”

Callie and Marie looked at each other. “Need us to spot you some cash for the moment?” Marie asked. “Cause we definitely have the—”   


“Nah, nothing like that,” Three said quickly, waving her off. “I’m looking at this… furniture store with an opening. They want people who can lift heavy stuff, and there’s not much customer interaction, so it’s, like, perfect for me. Still kinda sucks though, which is why I came here.” She paused. “For your couch.”

“Yes, right, for the couch,” Marie said.

“Aww!” Callie squealed, poking Three in the ribs. “You do like us! Ooh, are we the people you’re gonna come to when you have romance issues? Please?”

Three nearly gagged. “Ew, no. Callie, despite how comfortable this couch is, I  _ will _ get up and walk out.”

“Fine, fine,” Callie said, throwing her hands up.

“So, dish. How’d you get fired?” Marie asked.

“I punched a customer.”

Callie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, well, that’d do it.”

“Nice,” Marie said. “Go out with a bang.” 

“Don’t  _ encourage _ her!” Callie screeched.

“Come on, Callie,” Marie said, giving her cousin a disappointed look. Didn’t she know proper friend code? “Losing a job is just like a breakup; you’re supposed to shit-talk the ex so your friend feels better. Bet those co-workers were dicks, huh, Three?”

“Ugh, the worst!” Three exclaimed, rolling over on the couch. “And don’t get me started on my bitch-ass  _ manager. _ When he wasn’t yelling at us to work harder, he was bragging about how good he is at  _ salmon runs. _ Like, really?”

“What a jerk,” Marie said. “Shoulda followed him on the runs and fed him to a maws.”

“Ha!” Three laughed. “That’d teach him.”

“Okay, sorry to ruin your shit talking session or whatever, but I’m still wondering why you punched this customer,” Callie asked.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to punch a fan before,” Marie said.

“No! I haven’t!”

Marie rolled her eyes. Liar.

“Well, it was simple, really,” Three said. “Dude walks in, orders a coffee. Then when I’m ringing him up he says my ass looks great, and… other, similarly creepy shit. So I clock him in the jaw.

“Okay, well, understandable,” Callie said. “Though I  _ still _ think you overreacted.”

“Hey, if it’s any consolation, I think you’ve got a pretty great ass too,” Marie teased, throwing in a wink for good measure.

“Oh I’m not gay,” Three said, extraordinarily quickly.

Okay.

So.

So that was weirdly defensive. Was that weirdly defensive? Marie looked to Callie, who was already giving Marie a face that clearly communicated, ‘Hey, Marie, that was weirdly defensive, wasn’t it?’ 

Marie chanced a glance back at Three, who was wearing a totally neutral expression, as if literally nothing had just happened. Probably not a good idea to bring it up, then.

Marie looked back at Callie, and gave her the ‘Hey Callie! This is an awkward social situation, and you’re much better at those than I am, so please bail us out!’ look. Callie, of course, understood immediately, and said, “Actually, Marie and I are quitting our job at Inkopolis News soon, too! So we’re, like, job-losing buddies!”

Oh, great, bouncing from one uncomfortable topic to another. That was fantastic. But this one was more manageable, Marie supposed, because it was only uncomfortable for her. Callie was very gung-ho about the whole thing.

“Oh, really?” Three asked. “Got tired of saying the same five jokes you have for each stage over and over?”

“We actually wanted some more time to work on our independent careers,” Callie said. “And between the Splatoon and Inkopolis News, it was getting pretty hectic.”

“But it was mostly the jokes, yeah,” Marie added in. 

“Independent careers?” Three asked.

“Yeah!” Callie said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being in the Squid Sisters, but it’s also nice to get to do my own thing, you know?”

“Plus we can only perform the Inkantation so many times per month before it becomes illegal,” Marie added. Maybe if she kept deflecting with humor every time it was her turn to speak, nobody would ask about her actual feelings on the matter. That tended to work.

Three narrowed her eyes. “Was that a joke, or is that something to do with its weird ancestral mind magic?”

“Eh.” Marie made a wishy-washy hand gesture. “Let’s just say it’s really, really easy to get that song stuck in your head.”

“I wonder how the number two best-selling band would feel if they knew you guys cheat by using hypnosis.”   


“That is a gross misconstruction of the facts,” Marie said.

“I still think it’s cheating.” Three sat up on the couch. “So how’s Cap’n doing?”

“Oh, gramps?” Callie perked up. “Really well! He actually participated in the Inkopolis Annual Marathon last week.”

Three blinked. “Excuse me?”

From there, the conversation moved from their grandfather’s possible immortality to turfing stage/weapon combo preferences to a very heated debate about bagels, and it was almost like all that awkwardness from before had never happened.

Marie sighed. Everything would work out just fine, she was sure. 

Eventually. 

Probably.

* * *

**A few months later…**

Starfish Mainstage was utterly packed by the time Amy arrived; boys and girls, young and old, inklings, crustaceans, urchins, jellyfish—anybody lucky enough to snag some tickets.

Amy took a second to be mildly off put by the giant smiling face of Callie on the promotional banners, then collected herself and handed over two tickets to the jellyfish usher. He bobbed a little and nodded at her, then began walking down the aisle towards the front.

“Woah. I don’t think I’ve  _ ever  _ seen Starfish this packed before,” Fiona said from behind Amy as they followed the jelly. “Are they sure this doesn’t break fire safety laws?”

“I’m pretty sure Callie could murder someone and receive full pardon,” Amy said.

“You’re probably right.”

Fiona was one of Amy’s coworkers at the furniture store she worked at, and the only one who was actually tolerable to be around. That probably had something to do with the fact that Fiona was seventeen: only a few months older than Amy. Aside from them, the youngest person who worked there was, like, thirty, and if you’re still working in a goddamn furniture store in your thirties, you’re probably not very fun to hang around with. So when Callie had given Amy a couple tickets to her first solo show, there was only one reasonable option, really.

The usher stopped at the second row, gestured to a few empty seats towards the middle, and gurgled something unintelligible. Amy nodded her thanks, and slipped past a family of anemones to get to their spots.

“Oh my god, Amy! How on earth did you get these  _ seats, _ girl? Win some radio contest?”

Amy smirked. “See, I’m actually really good friends with Callie, and she gave them to me specifically.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you like your secrecy and shit. Whatever, I’m just glad you let me tag along.”

“Who else was I going to give the extra to? Kaitlyn?”

“God, if you had given it to  _ that _ bitch, I don’t think we would still be friends,” Fiona said, sticking out her tongue.

“Only thing I’m interested in giving her is a lamp straight up her cramped little—”

Amy was interrupted by Fiona squealing and grabbing her arm as Callie took to the stage, smiling ear to ear and waving both arms above her head at the crowd.

“Oh my goooooood, there she is!” Fiona screeched in Amy’s ear, shaking her vigorously by the arm.

“Yes, yes, she’s—she’s definitely there,” Amy said, staring at where Fiona was grabbing her. Is this what friends did? Shake each other?

“Hey! How’s everybody doing tonight?” Callie called out, pulling the microphone from its stand. “You guys ready for a show?”

The crowd roared in response. As Callie continued to hype them up a bit, the opening beats to  _ Bomb Rush Blush _ began to blast over the speakers, and before Amy knew it, the concert was in full swing.

* * *

The last song of the night was Callie’s slightly more peppy cover of  _ Tide Goes Out, _ and by the time it was over, Amy had to admit that she felt a little disappointed.

“Shoutout to Marie for letting me cover her song! Wish you were here, cuz!” Callie shouted, pointing up at the sky. Amy frowned; was Marie not here? That felt wrong. “Thanks for being you, Inkopolis! I had a really great time out here tonight! And don’t forget—staaaaay fresh!” 

The crowd erupted into whoops and hollers and declarations of undying love, and Callie blew them a kiss as she walked off stage. Amy and Fiona rode the wave of people out of the venue, where they stumbled their way into Fiona’s car. Amy was buckling her seatbelt when Fiona reached over the console and gave her a side-hug.

“Thanks so much, Amy!” she cried. “That was so cool! Arg, all my friends at school are gonna be so jealous!”

Amy did not reply because she was focusing all of her energy on not panicking. Why was Fiona hugging her? She was not used to being hugged. She felt her face growing orange, and wondered if she should ask Fiona to stop. But would that be mean? Was this normal friendship levels of affection?

Fiona broke off before she could say anything, though, and Amy finished buckling her seatbelt, giving a halfhearted, “Yeah, no problem.”

Fiona started up the car and pulled out. “Hey, wanna go hang out at my place for a bit? My parents are out eating dinner or something, so we’d have the house to ourselves.”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” Amy said with a shrug. Should be fun; Fiona was pretty cool. And Amy had nothing better to do.

“Sweet!”

They chatted idly about the concert and work as they drove, and Fiona made reference to a movie that Amy hadn’t seen but that she simply  _ had _ to see, and, don’t worry, Fiona had it on DVD, they could watch it as soon as they arrive.

And thus Amy found herself on Fiona’s couch, watching the ending credits of  _ The Princess Tide. _

“That was the cheesiest movie I’ve ever seen,” Amy said.

Fiona laughed. “I know, right? Isn’t it great?”

“…Yes,” Amy said. “I don’t understand. I feel like it should’ve been bad, but it was good? And like, not even in a so-bad-it’s-good way. I’m so confused.”

“Exactly! It’s a cinematic masterpiece. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it before today.” Fiona readjusted her position on the couch, until her head was resting on Amy’s shoulder. Their tentacles brushed. “I had a really great time tonight, Amy.”

This… 

Felt… 

Romantic.

Amy looked down at Fiona, whose cheeks were tinted with her purple ink and framed on the right by her one wavy tentacle, and remembered that night a few days before she boarded the train, in her bedroom. She remembered her friend’s lips, a despicable feeling of rebellious pleasure, and her mother standing in the doorway a few seconds later, the perfect picture of disgust.

She could feel herself making the same mistake.

“I need to go,” Amy said, getting up from the couch.

“W-what?” Fiona’s blush died down, replaced by a look of confusion. “Is everything okay?”

Amy paused. “I’m—” Shit, what should she even say? “I didn’t come over to your house so you could throw yourself onto me.”

God, why was her default to be such an asshole?

“What?” Fiona said again, except this time with more indignation than confusion. “You’re the one who invited me to a concert. I thought—”

“You thought wrong.”

Fiona let out a sigh. “Maybe you’re right, then. Maybe you should leave.”

And so she did. It was a long walk home to her apartment from here, but like hell was she going to ask Fiona to drive her after that. She quit her job the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you know why Three doesn't like concerts.


	3. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Names and fame.

With DJ Octavio captured, leadership fell to his second-in-command, Vice-DJ Hacho. He was a rather bulbous Octarian, probably grown originally as an octo-bomber before scoring high enough on the leadership qualities exams to transfer into the administration team. Exams that, Zadie now noticed, were not even given to Octolings. She wondered why Octavio found it so useful to keep all the other Octolings as soldiers and technicians and laborers, and keep all the high ranking positions for Octarians. Did he trust growing from his own tentacles more than he trusted growing from the Vats? Was he scared that Octolings had the same potential he did, and could surpass him, while Octarians would be forever obedient?

Zadie had so many questions running through her mind now, it was overwhelming. She hadn’t ever really had questions before the Song. But this was good. Now she knew things could be better, and while that was frustrating, it was also good.

She was sitting across from the Vice-DJ now, on the terribly uncomfortable metal chairs that they had down here. She bet the surface had comfier chairs.

“Let’s get down to business, F-02-A,” Hacho said, lounging in his terribly uncomfortable metal chair. “Ever since Octavio got captured, I don’t know what’s happened, but some of your fellow Octolings have been showing signs of insubordination.”

Zadie faked a frown. “How unthinkable of them. I hope you disciplined them sufficiently.”

“Of course,” Hacho assured. “You won’t be seeing the F-04 squad in practices for a few weeks. But anyway. I am bringing this to your attention in the hopes that top officers such as yourself and F-01-A can closely monitor your subordinates for any such behavior. In a time of crisis such as this, we need you ‘lings on your best behavior even more than ever.”

“Of course, Vice-DJ,” Zadie said. “We must eliminate all weaknesses in order to recover Octavio and exact revenge against the Inkling menace. I shall report any observed discrepancy in behavior or ideology directly to administration.” She paused. “Though, let it be noted that I have no doubts about the integrity of my squadmates.”

“Yes, yes, of course. You may leave now,” Hacho said, waving her out. Zadie nodded and complied, walking out of the office.

Once she was alone on the catwalks, she let out a sigh. “I don’t like that guy at  _ all,” _ she mumbled under her breath. She couldn’t wait to get out of here. What could the surface be like? It was probably full of nice smells, and comfy chairs, and you were allowed to run on the catwalks, and there were probably nice people who were friendly, instead of mean people who were jerks. She had recently arrived at the upsetting conclusion that most every Octarian she knew was a mean jerk, and she was honestly so ready to not have to deal with them anymore.

She arrived at her dorm in short order, and was greeted by 02-B—no, by Kayla. Another thing Zadie had only recently come to understand was that saying people’s names instead of their titles was interesting and fun, and she didn’t know why they never did it.

“Hello, Zadie. What did Hacho want?”

Zadie snorted. “He wanted me to be on the lookout for ‘insubordinate behavior.’ You haven’t seen any recently, by chance, have you, Kayla?”

“Oh no, not me,” she said, smirking. “So anyway, how’s your little rebellion coming along?”

Zadie flopped onto her bed. “Marifer is on board; she said she’d talk to the rest of F-01 and to F-05. So we just gotta convince F-03, since F-04 is…” She trailed off. It went unsaid.

“And you don’t think any of them will rat us out?”

“They heard the song, same as us,” Zadie said, closing her eyes. “I’m feeling… confident.”

* * *

_ Amelia: _

_ It takes great courage for me to write you this letter. I realize now that I may have acted in haste tossing you out of the house like that last year—we all make mistakes in life, and God Seifa above preaches that we should always forgive. At least, that’s what our Enlightened always tells us. Is it foolish of me to hope you still attend services up there in Inkopolis? _

_ Anyway: I wanted to offer you a second chance, Amy. I am giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming that what happened that night was an honest mistake, and that you have since rectified your ways. We don’t even have to speak about it ever again. Just come home, and we can return to being a family. Your father misses you, too, you know. _

_ Oh, and happy seventeenth birthday. _

_ May Seifa watch over you, _

_ Mother _

Three set the letter on her desk and walked over to her weapons rack. She picked up her hero shot and ink tank, hooked everything up, walked back to her desk, and shot a thick glob of orange ink right onto the word ‘Mother.’ The ink seeped throughout the paper, eating away at the fiber until it dissolved into indiscernible particles. The glob of ink stopped spreading once it had reached the top of the paper, and the only legible word remaining was ‘Amelia.’ 

Three snarled, and shot that, too.

* * *

“Hey. I want to change my battletag.”

The Deca employee behind the counter—a teenage crustacean wearing an obscure band shirt and a backwards cap—nodded, typing something onto his computer. “Okay. What’s your Deca ID and current battletag?”

“981945,” Three rattled off. “And my tag is ‘AmyNumberOne.’”

A few more click-clacks of his claws on the keys. He had impressive dexterity with those things. “Alright, found ya,” the crustacean droned. “What do you wanna change it to?”

“Three.”

“Like, the number, or spelled out?”

“Spelled out.”

Clickity-click-clack. “Kay, you’re all set. Let me just print out your new card…”

Three waited an awkward twenty seconds as he went to get the card, and slid it over to her. “There you go. Have fun.”

Three took her ID and stuffed it in her shorts pocket, then unslung her Hero Shot from her back and walked into the first lobby she could find. More and more these days, she found herself wanting to be Three, not Amy. And when there was no agent work to do, all she had was turfing. 

At least she was better than everybody else.

* * *

**A few months later…**

Amy’s fourth job since coming to Inkopolis was as a tour guide at the P. R. Hana science museum. She’d just finished orientation and was sitting in the break room; there were ten minutes until the museum opened, so the other guides should be arriving shortly.

As if on cue, an Inkling who looked to be in his early twenties walked in. His tentacles were slicked back in a style that was… upsetting to Amy. He stopped, looked at her, and smiled.

“Oh, hey, girl. You new here?”

“…Yes,” Amy said carefully.

“Dope, dope. Well, if you ever need someone to show you the ropes, just hit me up, you know?”

Amy gave him a flat look. “I’m good. I already went through training.”

“Right, of course. Well, actually, I know this great place for lunch, if you wanna go out and—”

“Dude,” Amy interrupted. “Slow the hell down. You don’t even know my name and you already wanna fuck me?”

He just smirked. “Now who’s moving too fast? Name’s Danny. What’s yours?”

She sighed. He’d find out eventually anyway. “Amy. Now please leave me alone.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that! You seem like—”

He was mercifully interrupted by the door, and an older, female coworker stepping into the room. “Danny, step off,” she said almost immediately as she observed what was happening. “You’ll scare her away.”

“Buzzkill.” Danny shrugged. “Well. It’s an open offer.”

Amy flipped him off.

* * *

**A few months later…**

After Callie had left Inkopolis to tour the country, Marie had started asking Three to lunch more frequently. Three had had conflicts with work the first couple times, but they’d finally settled on a day that worked for both of them, and so Three found herself driving to The Reef in, funnily enough, the car that the Squid Sisters had gotten her for her birthday, because they were rich and also because Marie had looked through classified military files to find her birthday. (If she’d found out Three’s name or address, too, she hadn’t said anything, which Three was thankful for.)

_ Bomb Rush Blush _ came onto the radio as she pulled into the parking lot, and Three turned off her car as soon as she could. That song was beginning to seriously get on her nerves. And not in like an ‘ooh I’m Three I hate the Squid Sisters’ way. Like, legitimately. It was on  _ every _ station.

Three found Marie sipping a latte outside a cafe, and dropped down into the seat across from her. “Sup.”

“Sup yourself,” Marie said, as if ‘sup’ worked that way. She had her tentacles down in a braid, which looked really strange; strange enough that she didn’t get recognized as often, Three supposed. The fake, lensless glasses she was wearing probably helped with that too. “You gonna get anything?”

Three shrugged, so Marie shrugged, too, and took another sip of her coffee.

“Hey, didn’t you and Callie first get noticed because of some folk-singing contest?”

Marie nodded. “Yep. We were only fifteen and sixteen, too. I think we made some dedicated folk-singers pretty pissed that we swooped in and stole the competition.”

“Probably not as pissed as they are this year,” Three said. “Apparently some aspiring singer—I think she’s a couple years younger than you guys, like, twenty-two or something? I don’t know, it was in the morning paper, and you know how I am in the morning.”

“Not really,” Marie said. “But I can imagine.”

“Whatever. Point is, this girl sung so loud she brought the whole venue down. Her parents are gonna have to pay to rebuild it.”

“That’s insane,” Marie said, with exactly the same tone as she would’ve used to say ‘huh.’ “I mean, you always hear stories of squids with voices loud enough to cause damage, but without a Killer Wail?”

“I mean, presumably she had a microphone,” Three said.

“Still though,” Marie said. “It kind of makes me glad that they’re switching out the specials. I don’t want to go deaf because some banshee used a Wail point blank.”

“Ugh, but it’s gonna be such a hassle,” Three groaned. “This new ‘splashdown’ thing that they’re giving the hero shot replica seems so easy to dodge. And I’m gonna have to go to Sheldon to get the new special clip, since I don’t actually use a replica, and that means I’m gonna have to hear all of  _ his _ opinions on the changes, and…” Three shuddered.

Marie gave a laugh. “Talk about people you don’t want to give a Killer Wail to, right?”

“Exactly,” Three said, chuckling a bit.

Marie looked down at her coffee. She’d taken off the lid and was swirling it around, watching the trails of creamer spiral into homogeny with the rest of the drink. “Hey, Three? Can I vent to you for a hot minute?”

“Uhhhhh.” Three gulped. “I… am… the first person you came to?”

“You’re the only person I  _ can _ come to,” Marie said with a sigh. “I don’t have a ton of friends, Three. Not… real ones, anyways. And I like it that way, but it means that sometimes I have to rely on a teenager for emotional support.”

“But what about Callie?” Three asked. Marie just gave her a  _ look, _ and suddenly Three understood. “Oh. This is  _ about _ Callie, isn’t it.”

“Yeah.” She swirled her coffee some more. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just jealous that her solo career’s going so much better than mine, but I feel like she’s leaving me behind.”

“That doesn’t seem like something she’d do,” Three said. 

“I don’t think it’s intentional or anything,” Marie said. “But, it’s like… ugh. She’s so busy all the time now that we can’t even go get dinner with each other. I mean, we still live together, but even then she’s always talking about work. She even asked me to cover a mission for her; a mission! She’s never done that before.”

“Well if it’s not intentional, maybe just talk to her?”

“But then she’d feel bad,” Marie said.

“Is that…” Three paused. “Is that not the point? She feels bad, so she starts considering your feelings more or whatever?”

“No, Three, that’s not the point,” Marie said, rolling her eyes. “Knowing Callie, she’d gladly compromise her career if she knew how I was feeling, and I don’t want that. She  _ deserves _ all the success she’s seeing.”

“So then… Don’t do anything?”

“You know, Three, you’re not very good at this.”

“I do know, actually,” Three said, frowning. “And I’m trying my best, asshole.”

Marie smiled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Whatever.”

“…I don’t know,” Marie said after a short spell of silence. “I guess I’m just afraid we’re going to start drifting apart. We’ve been so close for so long, and she’s the only person I can really, truly trust, you know? I was super shy and insecure growing up. I had to go through a lot of tough changes. But Callie was always there to support me. So the thought of her not being a constant in my life is… scary. But she doesn’t seem to feel the same about—about me.” Her voice grew quieter at the end, and she turned her head away.

“I…” Three sucked in a breath. Was… was she crying? Shit. Shit! Three didn’t know what to do with a crying person! 

“I didn’t even want to go s-solo in the first place!” Marie exclaimed, desperately wiping at her eyes. Oh, jeez, that sure was a lot of bottled up emotions coming out of her right now. “It was all her stupid i— _ hic _ —idea. What was wr-wrong with what we had? Was she not happy or something? I don’t—I don’t under _ stand!” _

“Wait, uh, wait!” Three said, leaning forward and waving her hands. “Don’t cry! I don’t know how to handle that!”  Marie stopped ranting, hiccuped, and looked up at Three. Then she began laughing. It wasn’t a very pretty laugh—since she was still crying, it was full of cracks and mucus, but it was definitely laughing.

“Whaaaaat is going on,” Three said carefully.

“You—" Marie took a deep breath. “You’re a great friend, Three. Really.”

“Um.” Three blinked. “Thanks?”

“Yeah.” Marie let out a final chuckle, then threw back her coffee, taking a couple fat gulps before setting it back on the table with an appreciative ‘ah.’

“Wasn’t that still hot?” Three asked.

“Oh, burning,” Marie said. “But I hate crying in public and I needed to jolt myself out of my funk. So, anyway, what’s up with you?”

Three raised an eyebrow. “Are we just gonna fucking move onto—”

“Yep. This never happened. Got it?”

“Uh, got it.”

“Cool. So what’s up with you?”

Three shook her head as they eased back into small talk. Marie totally owed her one after that.

* * *

Three was walking back to her car from the cafe and thinking about her talk with Marie when she froze on the spot, staring at the Inkling that was walking out of a nearby clothing store.

Fiona.

Immediately, Three’s hearts began pounding, and she hated it. She hated Fiona’s stupid, pretty face, and her dumb, awful, perfectly shaped hips, but she hated herself, most importantly, for wanting to kiss that face, and hold those hips. 

She needed to run. 

Run, run, run. 

Get on the train and run, run away to the big city where no one knows your name— 

She raced to the safety of her car, pulled out her phone, and texted Danny.

**Amy:** Hey. You doing anything Tuesday night?


	4. The Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday surprise.

Three held her chin in one hand and her fork in the other, picking absentmindedly at her food. It wasn't very good food, but at least she wasn't paying for it. 

She was currently thinking about seals, and how dumb they were. They were basically giant piles of fat with stubby little flippers. What did they ever do to deserve their place in the world? What drove them? Did seals even know how sad and miserable they were, or did they plod along through their pitiful lives in naive compliance until the day their flesh began rotting?

“So, what do you like to do in your spare time?” Danny asked from across the table. 

While Three put her edgy metaphor to rest, Amy put on a smile. “Oh, well, I turf a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. I've never met someone better than me.”

“Yeah, its the same way for me, but with life in general,” Danny said, smirking and throwing in a wink. He must have thought he was very charming; Three groaned internally, and Amy gave a polite giggle. 

God. What was she even doing?

The rest of the date continued in a haze, and before she knew it, she was standing outside the restaurant, Danny’s hand wrapped around her waist like a noose. “Well, that was fun, right, Amy?”

“Y-yeah.”

“See you later, kay?”

“Mhmm.”

Danny leaned down and planted his lips on Amy’s, and she froze up. Just as suddenly as he had started, he stopped, giving her a mock salute as he took off. Amy, stunned, could only bring a trembling hand up to her lips.

What was she doing? What was she doing? What was she even  _ fucking  _ doing? Stupid.  _ Stupid.  _

“Miss, are you okay?”

Amy looked up to see an older inkling woman looking at her with concern. “You’ve been standing there for quite some time now.”

Three set her jaw and wiped at her eyes. “Mind your business, hag.” She turned on her heel and stalked off towards her car; she needed to go for a good, long turfing session.

* * *

**A few months later...**

Marina was typing away, eyes glued to her monitor, when she heard someone cough from behind her. “Ahem.”

She quickly switched tabs. She turned her head to see who it was, and then immediately got up to stand at attention. “Vice-DJ Hacho, sir. How may I be of service?”

“I was just coming around to see how the restorations were coming on the Great Octoweapons. We need to be at our full power before reengaging with Inkopolis.”

“Of course,” Marina said. “The restorations are coming slower than I’d like, but they’re getting there. Right now, I only have the Octostomp back to functionality. I even gave it an ink-proof jacket.”

And if she put an easily-destructible clasp right on the thing’s face, well, that was no concern of Hacho’s.

“Well, hurry it up, 01-A. We’re running out of time. Didn’t you build these things in the first place?”

“I  _ improved _ upon them,” Marina corrected. “Rebuilding them from whatever scrap was left behind when Agent 3 made them blow is a lot harder than reinforcing their casing or upgrading some joints.”

Hacho huffed. “Whatever. Keep me posted on your progress.”

“Of course.”

He turned around and walked off. Marina waited a few moments, then turned back to her computer. “He’s so bossy.” She typed a bit more, then hit a button. The lights flickered and died, and she heard the sound of a hundred machines all shut down at once as the base lost power. “I’ll keep you posted from the surface. How’s that sound, Hacho?”

Without wasting another second, she got up and dashed through the darkness.

* * *

**One week later**

Pearl liked to go to Mt. Nantai to scream.

It wasn’t weird, though. See, her voice was so fucking dope that it could actually cause physical damage. And without a Killer Wail to concentrate it, that power wasn’t converted into ink. Therefore, whenever she wanted to practice her fuckin’ tight superpower of screaming hard enough to bring down folk-singing contest venues, she came here, to Mt. Nantai, where she could holler as loud as she wanted without inconveniencing anyone.

But she wasn’t alone this time. There was some… country bumpkin, or something, sitting here on the mountain. She had weird-looking tentacles with suckers on the outside, and there was something wrong with her eyes. Also, were those claws?

Hmm. She might be slightly weirder than a country bumpkin. But only slightly.

“Uh, hi?” Pearl asked.

The girl turned. “Oh! Hello! You’re the girl who comes here to scream and sing, right?” She spoke with an accent that Pearl had never heard before, but her Inklish seemed perfect. “I heard you last time you came. I’ve been waiting for you.”

That was… slightly creepy. “For a week?”

“Yes,” she said. “Sorry, I’m… new here. Do you think you could help me? I’ve never been to Inkopolis before, and I’m afraid to go in by myself.”

“Well, jeez,” Pearl said. “I guess? Who are you, exactly?”

“I am called…” she trailed off and laughed. Pearl could tell that it wasn’t a very happy laugh. “My  _ name _ is Marina. Let’s not worry about what I’m called.”

“Oooookay,” Pearl said. This was strange. Part of her was saying that she should ignore the weird girl that waited on a mountain for a week just so that Pearl could show her around town, but that was the part of her that Pearl very rarely listened to. The much more fun part of her was saying, why the fuck not? “Nice to meet you, Marina. I’m Pearl! I make music.”

“Me too!” Marina exclaimed, breaking into a grin. “We should start a band. That’s what musicians do in Inkopolis, right? Start bands? I read that somewhere, I’m sure of it.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Pearl said, beginning to walk back down the mountain. “It’ll be totally off the hook.”

“Off the hook?” Marina asked. “I’m not familiar with the idiom.”

“The what now?”

“The expression. The phrase. The metaphor. I’m sorry, I don’t really know which words are colloquial.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Pearl said with a shrug. “I don’t really know words in general, so you’ve got one up on me. And, uh, off the hook basically means, like, cool. Awesome. Fresh.”

Marina smiled softly. Pearl’s incredibly gay brain appreciated how her face looked in that moment.

“Off the hook,” Marina murmured to herself. “Yes. Our band will be off the hook.”

* * *

Callie slunk her way into the doorway to Marie’s bedroom. Marie was laying there on her bed, earbuds in, Squidstagram up. She was quietly humming some tune that Callie didn’t recognize, and didn’t seem to notice her.

“Hey, Marie, can I talk to you?”

Marie turned her head and pulled out her earbuds, sitting up a bit straighter against her pillows. “Wait, Callie? Aren’t you supposed to be doing a commercial right now or something?”

“No, I, uh…” She rubbed at her arm. “I canceled that.”

“Oh.” Marie blinked. “Well, uh, what’s up?”

Callie sighed. “I wanted to apologize. I’ve been a really bad sister.”

“We’re cousins.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Marie said, sighing and swinging her feet over the side of the bed, looking Callie in the eye. “And, yeah, you kind of have. But it’s okay.”

“I don’t know if it is.”

“You’re finally getting really big, Callie,” Marie said. “That’s been your dream since we were kids, and it’s happening. You’re an A-list celebrity now. So it’s okay.”

“I…” Callie frowned, rubbing at her elbow. “Well, for starters, I shouldn’t sacrifice my relationship with you for fame. That’s screwed up.” Marie didn’t say anything, so she continued. “And secondly, I don’t… think this is what I want anymore. To be in the public eye all the time.”

“We kind of were already.”

“Yeah, but not like  _ this,” _ Callie said, throwing herself down into Marie’s desk chair and fidgeting with her hands. “It’s exhausting, Marie. And not being able to spend time with people I care about is just making it more exhausting.”

“Well. Thanks for the apology,” Marie said. “What are you going to do?”

“I need to clear my head, big time,” Callie said. “And I also really need to get out of the spotlight. So I talked with Gramps, and I’m going to go do some long-term recon out in the Octo territory.”

“Oh, okay.” Marie’s expression would be unreadable to anybody else, but Callie could tell she was disappointed.

“It won’t be for too long,” Callie assured. “Just enough time that the press moves on to the next thing, you know? And once I’m back, I  _ promise _ that we’ll spend more time together.”

“Alright,” Marie said, breaking into a soft smile. “I understand.”

“Oh, one last thing; could you do me a favor while I’m gone and check in with Three?”

“With Three?”

“Yeah,” Callie said. “She was there when I was talking with Gramps about this, and she seemed really out of it. Have you seen her?”

“Not lately, no,” Marie said, her brow creasing with worry. “Not… not in a while.”

“Well, I’m worried about her,” Callie confessed. “She was still grumpy and all, but it was… different. Like, you know how when she insults someone, she’s really creative with it? Or how she always makes the biggest fusses over the pettiest things? All of that was gone, and she was just acting… cold.” She sighed. “I almost didn’t want to leave just for that…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Marie assured. “I’ll handle Three. You do whatever you need to do to get your head on straight. Okay?”

Callie nodded, smiling. “Okay.”

She walked forward and pulled Marie into a hug; for once, Marie didn’t complain.

* * *

_ “I’m fine,” _ Three hissed through the phone.  _ “What’s this all about?” _

“I—well—” Marie sighed. “Look, Callie said you didn’t seem like yourself when you met about her recon mission. I’m just checking in to make sure you’re doing okay.”

There was a long silence, which Marie spent restlessly twirling a pen in her free hand. Eventually, Three simply responded,  _ “I said I’m fine.” _

“Right,” Marie said. “You sure did say that.”

_ “Great,” _ she snapped.  _ “Glad we’re on the same page.” _

“You can always talk to me, you know. Whenever you need to. It’s okay to come to others for help sometimes, Three.”

_ “…Leave me alone, Marie.” _

The line clicked dead.

* * *

**A few months later…**

The first thing Three noticed about Danny’s bedroom was that he had a terrible taste in movies, judging by the posters on the walls. The second thing Three noticed about Danny’s bedroom was the Callie body pillow, which made her skin crawl for so, so many reasons.

“Man, work was the worst today, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Three said. “Pretty shitty day.”

“So many out-of-towners.” He shook his head, flopping down on his bed. “Were they asking you dumb questions too?”

“Oh, all over the place,” Three said. “It made me want to rip my tentacles out.”

“Yo, I feel that so hard.” He paused for a moment. “So, there’s a special reason I invited you over, you know?”

Three raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You know how you turned eighteen last week?”

“Yeah? What about it? You already gave me a present.” It had been a necklace. Three had yet to wear it.

“Yeah, but… Well, see, that means we can… you know. You’re not underage, Amy.”

“O-oh,” Amy said. A black void was slowly closing in around her. “I guess it does mean that.”

Danny leaned back on the bed in a more… exhibitory manner. He reached for the button on his jeans. 

Amy took a step backwards. She must not have been able to keep up her neutral expression, because Danny stopped suddenly, shooting her a worried look. “Hey, you good?”

Why did he care? Why did he care  _ now? _

Probably because he didn’t want to lose his  _ chance. _

“I—it’s—” Three panicked. “I’m gay!”

“What?”

“NO!” Three screamed. “Sorry, I just—URG! FUCK YOU! PERV!”

“What?!” Danny’s eyebrows tilted down. “Amy, what’s your deal?!”

She turned and ran. 

* * *

Three slammed open the apartment door, causing Marie, who was reading a magazine on her couch, to yelp and nearly tumble off. 

“Hey, Marie?” 

Marie managed to pull herself back up into a sitting position, dropping her magazine in her lap. “Hey, Three. Uh. What’s going on?”

“You know how I let you cry all over me about Callie that one time?”

“…Yes?” 

“I need you to return the favor.” 

Marie swung her legs off the side of the couch and stood up, looking at Three with unconcealed worry. “Three, what happened?” 

“I turned eighteen last week. And so me and my boyfriend are legal now. And he s-started to, you know, and I said—and Marie, I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have… I should—shouldn’t have done any of this!  _ GRRAH, _ why am I s-so  _ BROKEN? _ _”_

Three exploded into tears, for the first time since a year and a half ago when she’d become homeless overnight. Crying wasn’t her thing. But her world felt like hell, and she didn’t think she’d ever felt like more of a pile of garbage in her life, so, goddammit, she could bawl all she wanted right now.

Marie brought her into a hug and let her sob into her shirt, silent and soothing. Three wasn’t sure how long she stayed standing there, but by the end of it, her legs were starting to hurt. Marie was kind enough to let Three crash on Callie’s bed that night, and Three tried her best not to dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(
> 
> The reason I'm doing a prequel after everything else is because I would not have been able to write some of these scenes without already having a happy ending
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading! It gets brighter from here, mostly


	5. Revolution's Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a couple people get into a fight.

Marina adjusted her headphones, listening to the waveform change as she slid the little dials up and down. This was just like engineering—except way more fun! It was only her first week on the surface, but it was so much better than she could have ever imagined. It had only been a couple months so far, but it had been the best couple months of her life.

Especially the food. Pearl had taken her to all sorts of wonderful restaurants, and each new meal she tried seemed to be even more wondrous than the last. She sighed; Pearl really was just the best. Waiting for that week on the mountain had totally been worth it.

Speaking of Pearl, her head poked into the doorframe just then, her little tentacles swaying to one side. “Yo, Marina. I’m gonna run out for groceries. You need anything?”

Marina pursed her lips. “Could I have more of those little chewy gelatin things?”

“You mean gummies?”

“Yes,” she affirmed, absentmindedly licking her lips.

Pearl laughed. “Sure thing! So, you enjoying the synth?”

“So much!” Marina exclaimed. “Thank you for getting it for me. The technology’s a little retro compared to what we have down in the Domes, but I like it. I don’t think I want anything too similar to what the DJ uses anyway. Too many bad memories.”

“Girl, the more you talk about your hometown, the more confused I get. Sounds weird as shit.” She shook her head. “Well, anyway, I’m off. Have fun!”

“You too!” Marina called.

She turned back to the synth, and got lost in the music. She was in the middle of humming a small melody to herself under her breath when the door creaked open once again. 

“Pearl? Did you forget your keys again? I told you, if you—”

Marina choked on her next word. That wasn’t Pearl.

The inkling in front of her was short with long, untended orange tentacles, bags under her intense eyes, and tensed muscles that looked ready to spring at the drop of a feather. 

She shut the door behind her with an ominous thunk. “Hey. New in town?”

Marina almost hadn’t recognized her without the jacket and headphones, but she knew that face. Every Octoling from here to the Ravine knew that face. She was dead. She was dead, she was dead, she was so dead, dead, dead. 

“I hope you didn’t think,” Agent 3 began, “that we wouldn’t notice an Octoling living right here in the city.”

“Please,” Marina breathed. “I—I’m not with them anymore. I’m not here to spy. I’m just—I just want to be happy.”

Agent 3 snorted. “Yeah? Well, despite the good press, running away to Inkopolis doesn’t automatically make your problems go away.” She crossed her arms, leaning against the door, blocking the handle with her body. “Look. We have no reason to trust you, but Captain Cuttlefish decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. All you have to do is show up and tell us what you know, and why you’re here, and then you can return to your regularly scheduled”—she brought her fingers up into air quotes—“‘happiness.’ Got it?”

“I just—” Marina took a deep breath. “Okay. Fine. But after that, we’re done. I’m over that life, and I don’t want to spend time thinking about the past.”

“HA!” Agent 3’s face contorted into a crazed grin. “Yeah, I’ve been there. See how far that gets you.”

Marina bit her lip. Now that she got a good look at her, Marina didn’t really know what to think. She had expected her to be… older. “Hey, are… are you okay?”

The grin vanished. “Ask me again and find out.”

Marina scooted back in her chair. “R-right. Sorry I asked.”

“You should be.” Agent 3 threw her a folded up piece of paper. It hit her in the chest with a soft  _ pap, _ then tumbled down into her lap. “That has instructions on the meeting. Be there.” Marina was expecting an ‘or else’ to come out next, but the girl just left without another word, the door latching closed behind her. 

Marina finally let out her breath. This was fine. She’d just… get this over with, hope they didn’t judge her guilty or whatever, and then forget about all of this, and just live happily with Pearl in her cute little huge house.

With a sigh, Marina unfolded the paper.

**Tentakeel Outpost** , it read, in a crude handwriting.  **Small cabin. Be there in 5. Come alone.**

“Five?” Marina uttered. “Like. Minutes?”

She looked at the clock.  _ Nyuze jaskenei. _

* * *

Three plopped herself down into one of the chairs inside the cabin. Cap’n Cuttlefish was resting in the rocking chair in the corner, but Marie’s eyes flashed over to her. Three couldn’t see her mouth behind the face mask, but she didn’t really need to at this point.

“I thought you were going to bring her here,” Marie said.

Three grunted. “She’ll come.”

Marie’s eyes flicked to the door, to her grandfather, and then back to Three. “Hey. You doing alright?”

“What makes you think—” Three broke off, then looked away, crossing her arms. “Not really.”

“How are things with…?”

“I broke up with him. Through text.”

“Oh,” Marie said. “Well if it means anything, I… think you made the right choice.”

Three massaged her eye sockets. “I don’t fucking know, Marie. I’m just so confused.”

A knock at the door cut the conversation short. Cuttlefish called for them to come in, and the Octoling from earlier stepped into the cabin, nervously running a hand down her tentacles. “Uh. Hi.”

“Sup,” Marie said.

“I… understand you have some questions to ask me?” she said.

“Indeed,” Cuttlefish said, leaning forward on his cane. “Here’s one for you: want a granola bar?” He pulled one out of a nearby box and offered it to the Octoling.

“Um.” She squinted. “Is that some kind of nutrient block?”

“It’s shit is what it is,” Three said.

“Kids these days,” Cuttlefish said, shaking his head and sliding the bar into his pocket. “Well, anyways, I’m Craig Cuttlefish. Pleasure to meet you.”

He offered up his hand. The Octoling looked confused, and eventually Cuttlefish put it away, instead asking, “What’s your name?”

“…Marina.”

“A lovely name,” he said. “What brings you to Inkopolis?”

“I ran away,” Marina said, after a bit. “Once the Calamari Inkantation broke our hypnosis, we knew we needed to get out. I… happened to be the first.”

“So,” Marie said. “Got any juicy Octarian secrets to spill?”

“Well, I was in charge of rebuilding the Great Octoweapons,” Marina said. “So I can tell you the only one you’ll have to worry about is the Octostomp. All the others are still broken beyond repair.”

“Woah,” Marie said. “You were pretty high-ranking, then, right?”

She nodded. “For an Octoling, yeah. I was the head engineer.”

“So do you know what their plan is?” Three asked.

Marina raised an eyebrow. “Their plan?”

“Yeah, you know,” Three said, waving her hand around vaguely. “Octavio’s next big plan. For getting revenge or whatever.”

“Oh, right, that.” Marina shrugged. “Probably just the same thing as before, if I’m being honest with you; he’s not particularly creative. Though, he was sending a bunch of troops over to Octo Ravine—there have been reports of Octolings going missing in that region.” She paused. “That’s not you guys, though, right?”

“Nope,” Marie said. “The only agent we have out in the field right now is scouting out the Canyon. That’s where you guys relocated, if I’m not mistaken?”

Marina nodded.

“Perhaps we should do some investigating of our own,” Cuttlefish said, scratching at his beard. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out to see the Ravine. It’s a beautiful stretch of land.”

“I’ll go with you,” Three said immediately. 

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Craig said. “I know you’ve got work here and such, and despite how I may look, I can handle myself alright.”

“But—” Three clenched her fist. “Let me go with you. I… need to get out of Inkopolis for a while.”

“Well, if you say so!” Cuttlefish shrugged and rocked back in his chair. “Are you good holding down the fort, Agent 2?”

“Sure thing,” Marie said.

“Great.” Three stood up. “Hey, I gotta go. I’ll catch you guys later.”

“Three, we’re in the middle of interviewing an escaped Octoling,” Marie said. “You’re just going to leave?”

“Yes,” Three said, walking out of the cabin and closing the door behind her.

* * *

**A few weeks later**

Zadie tapped one claw restlessly against the barrel of her Octoshot. She was gathered with her team, as well as many of the other front-ops squads, and a whole splattalion of Octarian troops, outside the kettle that led to Tentakeel Outpost. Hacho was at the front, standing right before the grate. 

“Alright, troops,” he said. “This is it. Our goal is to recover the DJ, and capture any of those god-forsaken Inklings that try to stop us, while the B team takes the Great Zapfish. Hopefully we can split their forces, and finally achieve victory in the name of the Octarian Empire. Any questions?” An Octotrooper raised its hand. “Yes, you.”

“Actually, sir, we’re not an Empire; that would require—”

_ Splat. _

“Any other questions? No? Good. Let’s get going, then.”

He started ushering all the Octarians through the grate as fast as they could squeeze through. Zadie and her squad followed right after F-01, popping out in the middle of Tentakeel Outpost. She looked up ahead, and saw that the frontline troopers were getting mowed down in great columns from a series of powerful charger bursts. She squinted, and saw a lone Inkling standing at the border between the Canyon and Inkopolis territory, Hero Charger in hand. 

“Idiots!” Hacho cried from behind them. “Get her!”

With a series of blasts, Agent 2 splatted every Octosniper that they had managed to assemble, then started digging into the Octocopters. Hacho let out a frustrated growl and rushed forward, hacking up a splat bomb and launching it at Agent 2. She swam out of the way, but then an Octo Commander started firing on her; she blew it up with a stored shot, but the calm only lasted a second before she was weaving in between an array of slow-moving trooper shots. She was fighting admirably, but she was no Agent 3—Zadie couldn’t see her winning this fight. It was time to step in.

With a bit of concentration, Zadie shifted her ink color across the spectrum to a neon green, then lifted her gun to the back of the Twintacle shield trooper in front of her.

_ Splat. _

Then shouting.

As a wave of green spread across the tentacles of the Octoling regiment, the field descended into chaos. Shots were being fired every which way, the ground was coated in multicolored ink, and cries of pain rang out as troops splatted left and right.

Not long after the real battle had started, Hacho managed to catch Zadie’s eye. “Traitor!” he called, eyes bloodshot. “Traitors, all of you! How could you do this to your—”

Zadie shot him in the face, and he went up in ink.

The battle raged for what felt like hours to Zadie, hyped up on adrenaline as she was. Ink from both sides coated her clothes, making them feel like weights, but she kept shooting. She had no idea which side was winning, but Agent 2 had dropped out a few minutes ago, which probably either meant she’d left the oven on, or decided to cut her losses and get out before they lost and she was captured.

Or, maybe, she’d seen Octavio break out of his snowglobe, and had decided to run for it. This thought popped into Zadie’s head as she looked up at the DJ, towering over a battlefield that had suddenly gone quiet, brushing shards of glass from his shoulders. She hadn’t seen him take this form in forever—she had forgotten how intimidating it was.

“Alright,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “Show’s over.”

His fist shot out, and Zadie cursed. 

* * *

Marie, hiding in the branches of a tree far away from the cabin, watched through the scope of her charger as the Octarians flowed back into the kettles, one after another, dragging the unconscious green-tentacled Octolings after them. Octavio was the last to leave, giving the Outpost a final once-over before transforming into his octopus form and slipping through the grate.

Marie let out a breath, and superjumped back to the cabin. She threw open the door and rushed inside, running up to the radio fixture against the wall. She adjusted the settings as fast as she could, then pressed the talk button.

“Callie! Callie, can you hear me?”

Static.

“Callie! This is urgent!”

Static.

“GRAH!” Marie banged a fist against Gramps’ rocking chair, switching frequencies with her other hand. “Three! Three, come in! Is Gramps with you?”

Static.

“Three?” She changed frequencies. “Callie? Anyone? Hello? Please!”

Dammit! What had happened to them? Where were they?

What was she supposed to do?

Tears poking at the corners of her eyes, she turned back to the radio. “Callie? Can you hear me? Three? Gramps? Are you there? Please, I…” Her voice broke. “I can’t do this alone…”

She stayed there at the radio well past the time the sun rose again in the morning, letting the static keep her company.

* * *

Zadie struggled against her bonds, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t escape from the ropes holding her to the cold, metal chair. Not even turning into her octopus form would let her slip out; all she could do was sit and await her fate.

As if on cue, the door to the cell opened, and DJ Octavio himself floated into the room, his form supported by a small hovercraft. Zadie never understood why he was usually so averse to walking around in his humanoid form—maybe the doorways were too short? Who knows.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he said, chuckling to himself. “Just kidding. I know exactly what we have here: a traitor!”

Zadie glared at him, but refused to say anything.

“Anyway, traitor, check out these new digs.” He held up a pair of sunglasses with LED lights in them, pulsing in a rhythmic pattern. Zadie couldn’t help but feel her eyes attracted to them; it was hard to look away. “Made ‘em just for you! Well, not really, actually, but whatever. They’re a brand new invention of mine—the hypnoshades! Aren’t they sweet?”

Zadie glared some more.

“I can see they’ve awed you into silence,” Octavio said. “Understandable. They are pretty rad. So rad, in fact, that they even managed to hypnotize Agent 1!” He cackled. “Callie Cuttlefish, annoying pop singer extraordinaire, on the side of the Octarians! Completely under my control! I have to say, I really outdid myself with these babies.”

Just then, the door slammed open, and Agent 1 appeared, a separate pair of hypnoshades over her eyes. “Hey, DJ Octavi-bro!” she called. “You fellas got any pizza down here?” She perked up when she noticed Zadie. “Oh, hey, I’m Callie. Don’t think we’ve met.”

“…Hey,” Zadie said. 

DJ Octavio, looking like he was about to combust, let out a deep sigh that transformed into a low growl about halfway through. “No, Callie, we don’t have pizza down here.”

“Wack. Well, anyway, could you tell the electrical team that I’m going to need them to divert some more power to the east wing? I just set up the fairy lights but they’re hella not working.”

“No!” Octavio fumed. “I am in the middle of something!”

“What? Come on, dude!” Agent 1 protested. She pulled up the side of her shirt, and pointed to a tattoo of an octopus right below her rib cage. “I even put on this gnarly temporary tat to symbolize our everlasting and unbreakably strong yet purely platonic bond, and you’re gonna sideline me like this?”

“Go AWAY!” he roared, flinging his tentacles in the air. “Do not bother me unless I call for you  _ specifically!” _

Agent 1 rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you’re really cramping my vibe here, man. Whatever, I’ll just go steal a baby zapfish or something for the lights. Catch you on the flippity flip.”

She left. Zadie turned to Octavio. “Completely under your control, huh?”

“She—listen,” Octavio grumbled. “Inklings are more naturally resistant to mind control. But the good news is that you”—he poked a tentacle against her chest—“are not an Inkling. If these shades are powerful enough to switch even an Inkling’s loyalties, after a couple days wearing them, it won’t even matter if you rebellious little Octolings remove them. Hell, not even the Calamari Inkantation would save you! Unless they make some new, spicier version of the song, but that seems unlikely. So, anyway, do you have any last words?”

“You’re a jerk,” Zadie said.

Octavio frowned. “Rude.”

He slipped the shades onto her eyes, and music and lights filled her head.

* * *

Lynn stormed out of Deca Towers, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie. She trudged through the Square, sneakers tapping against the concrete. Then, she heard a series of sprinting footfalls behind her, and turned to see Meagan running up after her. 

“Wait, Lynn!” she called.

She stopped, and turned. “What?”

“Look, I know Ricky can be… difficult.”

“Mmhmm.  _ Difficult.” _

Meagan hardened her glare. “He’s a btich, alright! But are you seriously cancelling practice over this?”

“I just—” Lynn sighed. “I just can’t deal with this today.”

“Is this about how we’re between sponsors?” Meagan asked.

“‘Between’ would imply we’re guaranteed to get another one,” Lynn said, then shook her head. “Sorry. I’m okay, just stressed, and Ricky’s not helping. I need a break. You guys should keep practicing if you’re up for it.”

Meagan frowned. “You sure? I’m just worried that if you walk away after a fight like that, it’ll come up again down the road. Shouldn’t you sort things with him now?”

“Not right now,” Lynn said, turning back away. “I think I’d just blow up at him again.”

“…Right.” Meagan sighed. “This sucks. We used to all be such great friends.”

“It’s one fight,” Lynn said. “We’ll work through it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Meagan nodded. “Right.”

She left back towards the Tower, while Lynn continued on towards her apartment. She just needed something to take her mind off this; she never knew running a pro turfing team could get so  _ stressful. _

“Psst! Hey, kid!”

Lynn turned. An inkling woman wearing an elaborate kimono and twirling a large umbrella was standing on top of what  _ appeared  _ to be a sewer grate.

“Follow me!” she whispered, then turned into a squid and slipped through the grate.

What the heck?

Well. Okay.

After taking a few moments to process what had just happened, Lynn shook her head. Who even was that? Did she really think that Lynn was going to jump through a sewer grate just because she was mysterious and had told Lynn to follow her?

Well she was right.

Lynn flopped out of the grate and landed on a rocky outcropping. There were some trees and flaglines around, as well as caution tape strung up between weird metal antenne. The squid she’d followed was standing a few yards in front of her, her umbrella resting over one shoulder, her back to Lynn.

“Hmm…” she said, before turning around dramatically. “Thank you for coming. When I saw you wandering around Inkopolis, I knew you were the one.”

Lynn raised an eyebrow. “You did, huh?”

“Yes,” she said, unconvincingly. “Now, I understand you may be a little bit starstruck, but I need you to get over it.”

Lynn narrowed her eyes. She… did look  _ kinda _ familiar… 

“Wait.” The woman frowned. “Do you not recognize me?”

“Don’t tell me,” Lynn said, holding up a finger. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

She stared for a few more seconds as the unidentified squid looked around awkwardly. “…Look, this is cute and all, but this is a time-sensitive issue, and—”

“The news!” Lynn said snapping her fingers. “You used to be an Inkopolis News anchor, like, a year ago. I wanna say… Callie?”

“Marie,” she said flatly.

“Right.” Lynn shrugged. “Well, it was fifty-fifty. So, why are we here?”

“I want you to steal the Great Zapfish back from the Octarians.”

Lynn blinked. “…Excuse me? The Octarians stole the Great Zapfish?” She paused. “The Octarians are  _ real?” _

“Yes, and you’re going to steal it back from them. You’re Agent 4 now,” Marie said, turning around and walking towards a small shack at the edge of the clearing. “Come on, let me get you some gear.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

Marie turned to stare at her over her shoulder. “Deathly. The fate of Inkopolis rests on your shoulders. Don’t worry, we’ll pay you too.”

Lynn threw a glance backwards at the grate that led back to Inkopolis. “What if I… say no?”

“Please.”

Lynn’s head whipped back around, to see Marie giving her a look that held a cocktail of emotions. Fear, pain, anxiety, exhaustion, and just the tiniest bit of hope.

“Please help me,” she said, just loud enough for Lynn to hear.

Well, what the hell. She had a few days to kill before their next practice; she might as well spend it training. She was sure these Octarians would be able to put up a challenge.

Lynn smiled. “Well. Since you asked so nicely.”

Marie visibly relaxed. “Thank you. Let me go get your equipment.”

“Oh! Do I get a grappling hook? Like… an inkhook?!”

“No.”

“What about a pen that’s secretly a bomb?”

“You already have bombs. Several kinds.”

“Yeah, but they’re not  _ secret.” _

“You’re not getting a pen bomb.”

“Okay, fine. What about those cool giant stamp specials that I hear are being tested for competitive viability? Can I have one of those?”

Marie let out a sigh. “And to think I complained about how  _ little _ Agent 3 talked.”

She opened the door to the small cabin and stepped inside; giggling to herself, Lynn followed after her.

* * *

“You think that’s it?” Three asked, looking over the ridge they were hiding behind.

“Well…” the Captain sighed. “It’s something, all right.”

They were deep inside Octo Ravine by now; they’d combed through several Octarian outposts, digging deeper and deeper until they were so far below sea level that Three’s headphones couldn’t even find the signal back to Tentakeel. They’d gone staticky on her a couple days ago, but she had to hope that it wasn’t because Marie was trying to contact her. She had enough to worry about down here.

Such as, for example, the large, metal wall that was half-melded into the stone of the caverns. It almost looked as if whatever this building was had been here for ages, and the Ravine had grown around it. The sleek metal stood out against the jagged rocks, and Three’s eyes were drawn to a small circular landing that connected to the side of the building. A metal door with a keypad broke the smoothness of the steel.

“I’m gonna check it out,” Three said.

Cap’n nodded. “Be careful.”

Three dropped down from their hiding spot onto the metal landing with a  _ clank, _ and began walking towards the door. Once she was in the center of the circle, however, she heard something hiss.

Methodically, the agent raised her weapon, cape and green tentacles whipping in the cavern’s winds.

An elite Octoling dove out from behind a small stack of crates. She was tall, with wavy tentacles that framed her face. She had the standard-issue Octogoggles, which distorted a pair of vengeful, irate eyes. She hissed at Three again; jeez, whoever this was, she  _ really _ wasn’t a big fan of Three’s.

Three jumped forward, and the Octoling began shooting, but Three moved faster than her ink did. They ran and ducked and rolled and shot, but it was clear who was winning this fight. The Octoling cursed, but only seemed to look more determined for it; Three decided it was time to end this before she pulled anything funny.

Popping her canned Splashdown, Three jumped up into the air and came down with an explosion of ink. The Octoling jumped back; she managed to avoid the blast radius, but she landed hard on her back. Three jumped onto her, pinned her down with one arm, and, following the mechanical motions she’d gone through against Octarians time and time again, pressed the shooter to her neck.

She hesitated. Up close, she actually looked kind of pretty wait, wait, hold up, what the hell are you  _ thinking, _ Amy? It doesn’t matter  _ how _ pretty she is or isn’t, she’s trying to  _ kill you. _

The Octoling let out a sneer and struggled, but there was nothing she could do. But then, just before Three could pull the trigger, something hard rammed into her side. As she flipped helplessly over the landing’s railing, she briefly caught sight of a figure in a grey hazmat suit, who reached down and grabbed the still-prone Octoling. Three didn’t catch what happened next, as that was the moment her body slammed into a pipe jutting out the side of the cavern, which knocked the lights right out of her, leaving her to tumble down toward the bottom of the pit. As her vision faded, she could at least be thankful that she’d be unconscious for the impact.


	6. Terrors in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Kamabo research facilities! Please enjoy your stay.

**About a week later**

“Three, come in,” Marie said into the radio. “Come in, Three. Are you there? Hello?” 

Static.

She sighed and walked out of the cabin. Callie was sitting on the bench with Four, wearing her favorite beanie and kicking her legs back and forth. “Anything?”

Marie shook her head. “It’s been days since they set out. I’m starting to think something happened.”

“Three’s a tough chick,” Callie said. “I’m sure whatever’s holding her up, she’ll get through it.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting this mysterious ‘Three,’” Four said. “She’s like me, right?”

Marie thought for a moment. “If by ‘like me’ you mean that she also recovered the Great Zapfish from DJ Octavio, then yes. If you mean ‘like me’ in any other sense of the word, then absolutely not.”

“You mean she’s not smart, good-looking,  _ or _ fun to be around?” Four said, faking a gasp. “How horrible! I feel so sorry for her!”

“You wish,” Marie said with a roll of her eyes.

“Three’s… a character,” Callie said. “She can kind of be a lot sometimes, but underneath she’s just a big softy.”

“A big softy who could kick your ass and make it look like swatting a fly,” Marie added.

“A big softy who could kick your ass but also gets defensive if you even suggest she feels a positive emotion.”

“And also she doesn’t tell anyone her name or where she lives or where she works or—”

“Okay, so she’s got a lot of stuff going on,” Four said, cutting Marie off. “I’m sure we’ll hit it off, though.”

Marie shared a look with Callie, and they both let out small laughs. “If you say so,” Marie said.

There was a brief bout of silence before Callie perked up, shooting a finger gun at Marie. “Oh! Marie! That new duo that runs Inkopolis News reached out to our manager about a possible collab at some point.”

“They did?” Marie cocked her head. “I know they’ve been getting really popular recently, but I have to admit I don’t think I’ve ever sat down and listened to their music.”

“It’s pretty good,” Callie said.

Four’s jaw dropped. “Pretty good?! Try  _ amazing! _ Marie, I can’t believe you’ve never heard any of Off the Hook’s stuff!”

“Oh, so you know  _ Off the Hook, _ but you didn’t know who I was?” Marie crossed her arms. “I see how it is, Four.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you still mad about that? You just don’t have a very memorable face.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not that its a bad face,” Four quickly qualified.

Marie gave her a flat look. “Just forgettable.”

Four shrugged. “I know what I said.”

“You’re the worst.”

Four beamed at her. “But you love me!”

Callie snickered; Marie shot her a look. “Whatever. I’m going home. Callie, you sticking around?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’ma take out some energy in the training area. I’ve had to do so many dumb interviews about my haitus; I just wanna smash stuff with my roller!”

Four hopped down from the bench. “Oh, lemme join you. Sounds like fun.”

“Heck yeah!” Callie said, giving the younger agent a high-five. “Let’s go beat up some training dummies!”

“Well, you two have fun,” Marie said.

“Yeah! See you at home!”

“See you.”

Marie watched them run off, then stepped back into Cuttlefish Cabin, once more approaching the radio. She pressed the transmit button. “This is Marie. Three, are you there? Come in, Three. This is Marie. Are you there Three? Please report back if you can hear this.”

Her voice and the crackle of the radio static sung a somber duet for the next hour or so before she finally gave up, turning the device off and retreating back towards Inkopolis.

* * *

_ “This… ie. …oo there? Come… is Marie… there Three? Please… fyou can… is.” _

Oh, god, Three’s head hurt. Oh, god, Three’s back hurt. Oh, god, Three’s legs hurt. Oh, god, Three’s arms hurt. Okay this was getting her nowhere.

_ “…hear me? …about you. It’s… home… longer. Please… safe.” _

Was that Marie? Dammit, the reception down here was shit. Actually, where exactly was ‘down here,’ anyway? Like, yeah, she’d fallen down the big hole, but where had she ended up?

She blinked her eyes open and oh, god, Three’s eyes hurt. At least it wasn’t bright here; that would’ve been torture. With a grunt, she pulled her aching body up onto its feet, and took stock. The first thing she noticed, besides all the pain, was that her inktank had shattered, and there was a big puddle of green ink pooled on the stone next to her. 

That was very, very bad, but she may as well make the most of it. She turned into a squid and flopped into the puddle, letting a satisfied trill out of her gills as she felt her muscles sooth and her bruises wane. She soaked there for a while; the ink-eating microbes, thankfully, were much less dense all the way down here, so she was actually able to recover most of her strength.

Pulling herself out of the ink, she shifted back into her humanoid form and picked up her discarded hero shot. She’d have to rely on her raw ink sac from here on out; not impossible, but she’d have to be a lot more careful than she was used to. As long as she didn’t get ganged up on, though, she should be able to just take things slow.

She took one look upwards before deciding that climbing out of here was  _ not  _ a viable option, and then turned to examine the metal wall that rose up the cave face in front of her. Her eyes caught on a large vent set into the metal; with a few grunts, she managed to rip off the grate, and it clattered loudly onto the Ravine’s floor.

No turning back now. After all, this was presumably what she’d been looking for this whole time anyway. Three set her jaw, strapped her gun to her back, and crawled into the vent.

* * *

_ Herya, juri, yu mirekerason… kire, hyari, yu riherahe nyurahera nunyera, unera, yurawera fimera NA… NIRE… JUTE… MIREKYARA HERYA… JURI… YU MIREKERASON— _

“Ah!”

She gasped in a mouthful of air, and the music cut out. She could hear traces of it echoing in the back of her mind, but couldn’t quite grasp them.

Where was she?

…Who was she?

And why was that weird old guy with the beard staring at her?

She got the feeling that maybe she was a bit out of it at the moment.

* * *

**Days Later**

Pearl and Marina sat on Mt. Nantai, huddled around Marina’s computer, which was in turn hooked up to a small portable satellite dish. It was a bit of a jury-rig, she wouldn’t lie, but it got the job done.

“Nice job on that test, Agent 8,” Marina said. “You’re doing great. Just one more of those ‘thang’ things to go.”

“Yeah! You got this!” Pearl cheered.

“Hang in there, alright, Eight? You’ll be out of there soon.” Marine took her finger off the push-to-talk button and let out a sigh. “This is awful.”

“Uh, yeah, had you not picked up on that?” Pearl asked skeptically. “That’s why we’re helping her.”

“I just wish we could do more. Like, get her out of there.”

Pearl put her hand on Marina’s wrist. “Hey. She’ll make it out."

“I hope so. It’s just, she’s the first Octoling I’ve talked to in months. I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to be the only one up here. It’d be so great to have another Octoling friend—and she seems so sweet! If… if she doesn’t make it out, then—” She broke off.

“That’s not selfish at all,” Pearl said. “I’ll bet she feels the same way about you.”   


Marina pursed her lips. “Do you think we should tell the Splatoon about this? No, no—they  _ just _ saved the Great Zapfish and got Callie back. They deserve a break. But if they could help…” 

“What could they even do? Storm the place?” Pearl scoffed. “We have no idea where this dumb metro even  _ is. _

Marina thought about it a moment before relenting. “I guess you’re right.”

“Surprised?”

Marina laughed. “Oh, Pearlie.” She reached out and grabbed Pearl’s hand, intertwining their fingers. She turned and gave her a soft look. “I’m scared.”

Pearl swallowed. “Yeah. Me too.”

* * *

Three peeked her head out of the closet she’d been hiding in and stepped out into one of the cold, drab hallways of Kamabo. The security in this facility, she had long ago discovered, was incredibly lax. The ‘guards’ that wandered around were these weird discolored Octolings, but as long as you stayed out of their line of sight, they would just continue to mindlessly lope through the corridors. Was it unsettling as fuck? Sure, but at least it made sneaking around easier.

She hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days. Or eating well. She just hoped she could escape soon and find Gramps; then they could put all this bullshit behind them.

At the moment, she was continuing her slow but steady ascent through the facility. She had managed to go unseen so far, but that meant she’d been forced to take her sweet time with it. She pulled up the blueprints on the CQ-80 she’d nabbed from one of the mutant octo guard things; she still had a ways to go, but it looked like there was a metro system on this level of the facility. Maybe she could sneak out on a train?

Well, it was worth a shot.

A loud mechanical whirr caused her to jump, but there was nobody in the room with her. Her eyes flicked over to one of the labs that was in this hallway—a little display screen above the door had shifted from ‘on standby’ to ‘blending in progress.’ She heard the sound of fluid hitting glass, and had to rip her eyes away from the observation windows.

_ Not again, _ she thought with a shudder.  _ I can’t take much more of this. I’m gonna throw up. _

She shook her head and trudged forward; the sound of the blenders faded into the distance, but she could still hear them just as loud in her head.

* * *

_ “Best of luck, Eight,” _ came Marina’s voice.  _ “Hopefully we’ll see each other soon.” _

_ “Heck yeah! I can’t wait to meet you in person!” _ Pearl exclaimed.

Eight smiled. Sure, she didn’t exactly know who she was, but Inkopolis would offer a new start. A chance to be whoever she wanted! Heh; maybe it really  _ was _ a promised land like the telephone kept saying. She couldn’t wait to see the Sun.

“Beep beep! All aboard the promised land train!” called the telephone from on top of assembled Thangs. “No time to dawdle! Last one in is a [Slang_Not_Found]!”

“Looks like we better get going,” Captain Cuttlefish said.

“Yeah,” Eight breathed. “Let’s go.”

She stepped into the machine, the Captain close behind her. The door closed down in front of them, and the platform began lifting them upwards. Upwards, towards the surface; she couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.

* * *

Three walked carefully across the glass roof, watching the trains meander from station to station. This sucked. She thought the subway would be her ticket out of this hellhole, but it looked like the whole system was entirely self-contained, which was just fan- _ fucking- _ tastic. Guess the only way out was to keep climbing. It’d be okay; she was Agent 3, the Inkling Menace. She’d get out of here or die trying. 

Oh, god, she might die down here.

She shook her head. She couldn’t let her mind wander. Whenever her son-of-a-bitch brain decided to take a stroll, it never ended well. Wasn’t that the whole point of this fucking mission? To get her mind off its bullshit?

Ugh, she was such a dumbass. She’d take a date with Danny over this any day of the fucking week.  _ Idiot. _ She was going to die down here in this gross research facility and god knows what was going to happen to her body, all because she was scared of having sex with boys.

With  _ a _ boy, she should clarify. Danny specifically, because he was an ass. Not  _ all  _ boys. She still liked boys. Probably. She was big enough to admit at this point that, okay, she probably also liked girls, but as long as she still liked boys then she didn’t have to, like,  _ deal _ with that part of herself. Actually, maybe she’d just not date anyone ever again. Yeah, that sounded good.

_ You’re doing it again, Amy, _ she admonished.  _ Maybe I really will be able to escape this place, since I have all this damn practice running away from my problems. _

She took a deep breath. If she—When she got back to Inkopolis,  _ something _ was going to have to change. She couldn’t keep going like this.

Nothing like a traumatic experience in an underground body-horror research facility to give you a little life perspective. 

“ _ BEEP! BEEP!  _ EMERGENCY DISTRESS!  _ BEEP! BEEP!  _ EMERGENCY DISTRESS!"

“Gah!” Three fumbled and pulled out her CQ-80. There was a distress signal being sent from just a station down. Three superjumped over, and gasped as she saw Captain Cuttlefish, along with some Octoling girl, standing in the middle of a whirling blender.

Oh no they  _ fucking _ didn’t. Not him.

She didn’t think, just moved. She heard the sound of glass shattering, felt her boots collide with something heavy, and then watched as the concrete station floor rushed up to meet her nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, just one more chapter before this is all over... wowzers.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with my dumb squid adventures, folks. I'll see you guys one last time on Thursday for the End.


	7. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three makes a phone call.

Three awoke to the sound of a blaring motor and whirring rotary blades. She groaned, reaching a hand up to the right side of her head; she had a massive headache there. Probably from crashing into that blender, she supposed. Maybe that hadn’t entirely been the best move, but she hadn’t really been given a lot of time to think it through. 

“Oh,” somebody said from behind her. Marina. “You’re awake.”

“God, it’s so damn loud in here,” Three grumbled, pushing herself up against a nearby wall. “Can’t somebody turn that thing off? I’ve got a bitch of a headache.”

“The helicopter?” Marina asked flatly. “You want me to turn the helicopter off?”

Three looked her dead in the eye. “You fucking heard me.”

“I’m not dealing with you right now,” Marina said. She wandered off into the cockpit, where Three could see Pearl’s crown poking up over the passenger seat’s headrest.

Well fuck her too, then, Three guessed. She sighed and looked around the cabin; Gramps was laying up against the wall opposite her, snoozing away, and the only other person around was the Octoling girl. She was sitting at one of the open cabin doors, legs hanging off the edge over the ocean. Her tentacles fluttered from the draft, catching the light in a mesmerizing way.

Three shook her head, walked over, and sat down next to the Octoling. She looked over at Three, went wide-eyed, and scooched away from her.

Uh. Okay. So she was afraid of her. Three could probably understand that; she was Agent 3, after all, and this was an Octoling soldier. But if they were going to be bringing her into the Splatoon, Three should probably try to be on good terms with her, right?

Three extended her hand. “Hey. My name’s Three. Nice to meet you.”

* * *

Eight looked at Agent 3’s proffered hand. Why was she holding her hand out? Was this some sort of gesture of ceasefire? 

“…Hello,” Eight said after a moment. She held her hand out in the same way as Three: pointed straight out, parallel to Three’s and a few inches away. “My name is Eight.”

Three looked down at their hands with a sort of awkward confusion, then moved hers inwards, lightly grabbing Eight’s. Oh—okay. What was happening? Eight wasn’t sure. But now Three was moving their hands upwards, so Eight decided to go along with that. Inklings sure were weird.

* * *

As Eight kept moving their conjoined hands upwards and upwards, Three began to suspect, a little belatedly, that this girl did not know what a handshake was. Soon, their hands were well above their eye level, but Eight seemed content to continue in this direction until they ran out of room. Three’s muscles were beginning to strain, though, so she let go of Eight’s hand and pulled her own back. 

Eight copied her actions like a mirror, moving her hand back down to her own lap. It was a little unsettling, and Three didn’t really know where to go from here. “Uhhhhhhh.”

* * *

After pulling her hand back, Three let out a low, guttural sound. Eight figured that at this point, this may as well happen; not wanting to be rude, she returned the gesture. “Uhhhhhhh.”

Three looked uncomfortable. “Why are you copying me?”

“What?” Eight blinked. “But—I thought this was all part of your Inkling greeting ritual.”

Three stared at her for a good few seconds. “No.”

“Oh.” 

Now Eight understood why Three looked uncomfortable. She was also, in fact, uncomfortable with what was happening right now.

“So, uh.” Three tapped her fingers against her knee. “You excited to see Inkopolis, then? I mean, unless you’ve… been there before. I know that you guys snuck into the city a few times, but… sorry.”

“No, I haven’t,” Eight said. “At least, I don’t think so. I kind of lost my memories of everything before Kamabo.”

“Huh,” Three said. “Er—sorry, I guess.”

“Oh, it’s—” Eight paused. Fine? No, it wasn’t fine. “It’s a thing,” she said instead. “But, yes! I am excited to see Inkopolis! Pearl and Marina kept telling me so many cool things about it, like how you have clothes, and food.”

“I—” Three looked like Eight had just said something horribly depressing, which was strange, because everything about the surface seemed to be the opposite of horrible and depressing. “Yes, we have clothes and food. But there’s a lot more than just that. We’ve got, like, the internet, and video games—you need to see the arcade sometime. And, like, art galleries and shit, if you’re into that, I guess? Sports? And fucking…” She paused. “I’m realizing that I don’t actually do much. We’ve got, uh, museums?” She frowned.

“I don’t know what any of that is,” Eight said, smiling softly, “but I can’t wait to find out.”

* * *

Three was the last one to step out of the helicopter once it touched down by Cuttlefish Cabin, and she was greeted by the smiling faces of the Squid Sisters, along with an Inkling girl a couple years older than her in a skirt and a yellow hoodie that matched her short tentacles.

Immediately, she was tackled in a hug by Callie. “Three!” she exclaimed. “We were so worried! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Yeah, I totally thought you’d kicked it,” Marie droned.

Three tried to wriggle out of Callie’s arms. “Unhand me, harlot.”

Callie pulled back, but was still smiling. “Marie is also really glad you’re okay,” she clarified. “Since she won’t say it herself.”

“Yeah,” Marie said. “That.”

Three looked around; Cap’n and Agent 8 were talking with Off the Hook about something a little ways off, which left her alone with the Squid Sisters and… whoever this new girl was.

“Hey, who’s she?” Three asked, pointing at her.

The girl waved cheerily. “Hi! I’m Agent 4.”

Three narrowed her eyes. “Agent—” She whipped around to the Squid Sisters. “Did you replace me? Oh my god, you really  _ did _ think I was dead.”

“What?” Callie looked horrified. “No no no! It’s not like that at all!”

“Octavio broke out and stole the Great Zapfish while you were gone,” Marie explained. “Also, he kidnapped and brainwashed Callie. So I needed someone to help out.”

“Oh,” Three said. “Jeez.”

_ You should’ve been here. Coward. You ran away when she needed you. Selfish. _

She turned to Four. “Well, damn, I never thought I’d have a successor. First word of advice: Never trust the Squid Sisters.”

“Hey!” Callie shouted.

Before Callie could voice any more of her protests, however, Cap’n Cuttlefish, Agent 8, and Off the Hook walked over to them. Three couldn’t help but notice the way Eight hid behind Cuttlefish and Marina.

“Hey guys!” Pearl said. Shouted. “Since Eight’s gonna be staying with us for a while, we’re gonna head out and get her all situated. Also, I need to put my helicopter away.”

“We should probably get going, too,” Marie said. “I think I actually need to go grocery shopping. It’s been a busy couple of weeks.”

Callie shot her a pleading look.  _ “Please _ tell me we have Frosted Flakes.”

Marie shrugged. “No clue.”

“Okay, we're definitely going grocery shopping.” Callie grabbed Marie’s wrist and began dragging her off. “See you guys later!” 

They all wandered away from the cabin in their various directions, and as the helicopter began to rise into the sky, Three found herself alone with Agent 4. She should probably, like, try to get to know her, right? If they were going to be working together and all.

“Hey, you wanna go to the training area and spar?” Three asked.

Four lit up. “Oh, totally! I always say, the best way to make new friends is by spilling their ink.”

Three smirked. “Great. It’s on, then.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Four had called for a break. It was understandable; even Three, whose personal turfing record was twenty-nine hours straight, was growing a bit tired, though that was probably more due to the whole Kamabo thing than anything Four had done to her. 

Three unslung her ink tank and lay down on the dirt of the training grounds, breathing heavily. Four slumped down next to her—Three could smell her sweat, but she was sure she was just as bad herself.

“Wow, you’re…” Four stopped to huff. “You’re really freaking good.”

“Yep,” Three acknowledged. “You know, you’re not actually as bad as I thought you’d be.”

“I splatted you  _ twice,” _ Four said.

“Yeah, exactly. That’s infinitely more times than I was expecting.”

“What made you think”—another huff—“that I would be bad?”

Three looked her over. “Mostly how you dress, to be honest.”

Four shot her a glare. “Oh yeah? And how do I dress?”

“Like a liberal arts student working on her very promising YA novel crossed with my ex boyfriend.”

“Okay.” She frowned, now looking more confused than indignant. “I don’t really know how to take that. Was your ex boyfriend a liberal arts student?”

Three snorted. “Not at all. He’s mostly just an asshole.”

“Right.” Four snickered. “Sometimes I’m really thankful I don’t have to worry about all that stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Three asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh. I’m ace.” Four paused at Three’s blank look. “Asexual. Also aromantic.”

“Right,” Three said. Thank god for context clues. 

“So I don’t really have to worry about the whole… dating… thing,” Four went on, waving her arm around.

“Must be nice.”

“Sometimes it is.”

Three tapped a finger against the dirt awkwardly. “Um. Do you mind if I…” She trailed off. “Fuck, nevermind.”

“Do I mind if you ask me a question?” Four finished. She was smirking slightly.

“What are you, fucking autocomplete?”

She shrugged. “I’ve come out a lot. I know the patterns. And, no, I don’t mind.”

Three thought for a few moments before speaking. “How did you know?”

Four nodded and started talking immediately. She hadn’t been kidding about knowing the patterns. “In high school, a bunch of my friends started dating, and that prompted me to wonder why  _ I _ was never interested in pursuing a relationship. And I mean… once you start asking yourself, ‘Am I not straight?’ then chances are you probably aren’t straight.”

“…Oh.” Three frowned. “That seems way too simple.”

Four gave her a curious look at that. “I mean, I glazed over a lot of self doubt and struggling with my identity, to be fair.”

“Right.” Three let her arms flop onto the ground, scattering some loose dirt.

“I think a lot of it is about having a good support system; that way, you can feel safe and comfortable enough to explore yourself,” Four said after a moment. “And it looks like you have that in the NSS. So just take your time, keep an open mind, and you’ll be okay.”

Three bristled. “Um, since when has this been about me, huh?”

“Oh, right, my bad,” Four said. “Just pretend I said all of that in the first person, and the ‘you’ was solely in the subtext.”

They both went quiet for a few moments. Three thought back to that moment on top of the metro, when she’d promised herself that things were going to change. Maybe…

She sighed. Maybe she could start with this.

“I’m hungry,” Three said suddenly, picking herself up. “I’m gonna go into the square and get dinner.”

Four took the sudden subject change in stride, popping up from her spot on the ground. “Same. I’m starving after all that sparring. What were you thinking?”

Shit, she hadn’t gotten that far. Also, she had been planning to eat alone. “Uh. Pizza?”

“Oh, sweet! Hey, I know this great place—their pineapple bacon pizza is just the  _ best!” _

Three stopped dead, and turned, slowly, to face Four. “Did… Did you…”

“What?” Four asked innocently. But, oh, she was anything but innocent. 

“Did you say pineapple bacon?” Three asked cautiously.

“Yeah!” She smiled. The bitch  _ grinned. _ “It’s the best!”

“Oh my god.” Three shuddered. “I’m sorry, but we can’t be friends.”

Four laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You can get whatever toppings you want, I just thought—”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Three said. “You ruined my appetite.”

“Are you serious?” Four gave her a bemused look.

“I’m leaving. See you around, heathen.” Three shifted forms and pressed herself against the ground, prepping for a superjump.

“Drama queen!” Four shouted after her as she rocketed through the sky.

* * *

A few days after their sparring session, Four had asked Three to get dinner with her for real this time, to make up for skipping out before. Three had begrudgingly accepted on the condition that they don’t go out for pizza. Four had also invited Eight, since Pearl and Marina had been worried about how much she’d apparently stayed cooped up in their house; and since she still needed a chaperone that Marina actually trusted, Pearl was tagging along, too.

The four of them were currently sitting in some Tilapian restaurant that only Pearl knew, and that only Pearl could afford. The menu only had, like, six things, which Three guessed was a symptom of narcissism; they were convinced that their food was so good that they didn’t even need to give you options. It was like only applying to one place during a job hunt, because you think you’re so obscenely qualified for the position that it would be pointless to expand your options.

The look on the waiter’s face when Three had ordered the pasta without the tomato, onion, mushroom, and broccoli had been some cross between astoundment and annoyance.

“So, just the sauce, then?” she had asked, as if it hadn’t been obvious. 

Fancy restaurants; Three swore.

Back in the present moment, Four was attempting to make small talk. “So how are you enjoying your time on the surface so far, Eight?” she asked. 

Eight took a brief recess from shoveling food in her mouth to look up. She ate like a vulture: fast, and with no regard for sanitary or presentational concerns. Three respected the hell out of it. “Oh, so much! The food here is great!”

Pearl looked down at Eight’s warzone of a plate with amusement. “Yeah, I can tell you like it.”

“It’s all a bit much, honestly,” Eight went on. “There are so many things I’ve never seen before, or that I’ve forgotten. And—and it’s so  _ colorful! _ Everybody’s wearing all these different clothes and calling things ‘fresh’ or ‘lame’ and I don’t understand.”

_ “Thank _ you!” Three exclaimed, taking the table a bit by surprise. “Finally, someone says it!”

“Uh, Three?” Four raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about fashion! It’s so fucking dumb.”

“Fashion’s not dumb! It’s a form of self expression!” Four protested.

“It makes no sense,” Three argued. “It changes every week and half the time it looks stupid as hell. If I could convince a couple celebrities to take selfies of them wearing crumpled soda cans on their heads and post them on Squidstagram with the caption ‘New look! Eco-friendly fashion is a Big Mood!’ then I swear to god you sheep would latch on without a second thought.”

Eight giggled from across the table. 

Four crossed her arms. “That’s a logical extreme.”

“Don’t even try to say you wouldn’t be a canhead, Four. You’d jump on that bandwagon like a desperate hitchhiker.”

Eight giggled harder, and Four fixed her with a look. “Eight, stop encouraging her!”

“But she’s funny!” Eight said through her giggles. 

_ She’s cute, _ said Three’s brain. For once, she didn’t try to shut it up so quickly. “See? I’m funny,” she said instead, sneering at Four. “And fashion makes no sense.”

Four crossed her arms. “Whatever. At least I don’t wear the same pair of shorts every day.”

“You—I—Shut up!” Eight started laughing harder, and Three, bright orange, looked away. “I’ll have you know I own many pairs of the exact same shorts.”

“That’s somehow worse,” Pearl said. 

“They’re  _ comfy _ and  _ practical,” _ Three insisted. “Having one outfit makes my morning routine much more efficient.”

“It does sound easier,” Eight admitted. 

“See? Eight gets me. She hasn’t been indoctrinated by the clothing industry.”

“I can’t believe this,” Pearl said. “How could you take her side, Eight?”

“I’m  _ just saying,” _ Eight said, splaying a hand forward, “all that clothing you and Marina bought me can be really confusing. I think Agent 3 has a point.”

Four mumbled something about aesthetics under her breath, while Three grinned triumphantly at Pearl. “Well, guess that settles it.”

“Ugh. I’m not discussing this any further,” Pearl said. “I never thought you two would get along so infuriatingly well.”

“Me neither,” Eight said softly, smiling down at her plate. 

_ She’s cute, _ Three’s brain said again. 

Then she started ravaging her food again, which was less cute and more animalistic and terrifying, though still endearing in its own way.

* * *

Three stood at the edge of Arowana as she and Four watched Pearl drive off, Eight waving them goodbye from the passenger’s seat. Three waved back, a small grin on her face. She couldn’t seem to help it. 

The dinner had gone fairly well, all things considered. Eight had slowly broken out of her shell over the course of it, which was good. Three was glad she didn’t seem too terribly scarred from all that Kamabo business. 

Four coughed. “Hey, so, you know how we had that big intimate discussion about sexuality like an hour after we met each other?”

Three froze, only just now realizing that she was still waving, even though Pearl’s car had long disappeared. “Um. Yeah?”

“Any new developments on that front?” she asked. 

Three sighed. “Am I that obvious?”

“Kinda,” Four admitted. “Eight’s definitely too new to Inkling culture to notice, though. You should be able to do this on your own time.”

“I’m…” Three rubbed at her arm, looking away. “I’m still not sure if I’m comfortable with this.”

“With romance in general, or being gay?” Three cringed a little at the word, and Four bit her lip. “Sorry. Well, like I said, you’ve got time to work it out. No rush.” She moved to walk away, then paused, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, but if you do ever want to make a move, and you want a friend around for support, feel free to hit me up.”

Three managed to brush off enough of the awkwardness to give Four a sly look. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ms. Pineapple Pizza. We’re not friends.”

Four laughed. “Sure, sure. See you around, Three.”

Three caught her eye with a tiny smile that she hoped conveyed the gratitude she wasn’t willing to express aloud. “See ya.”

* * *

**A few months later…**

Three sat on the bench outside Cuttlefish Cabin, staring at her phone.

“I can’t do this,” she mumbled.

“You can totally do this!” Four encouraged, sitting next to her. “You got this!”

“What if she turns me down?”

Four rolled her eyes. “Well, then it’ll be kind of awkward for like a week, and then you’ll get over it. You literally have nothing to lose here. Also, I don’t think she’ll turn you down.”

“Alright, alright, fine. Jeez.” She stared at her phone. Just… press call. Just do it. Come on, Three.

She sighed. “No, I actually can’t do this, though, is the thing.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Here, gimme.” 

Four reached out for Three’s phone, but Three jerked it away, leaning over the bench’s armrest. “Hey! Get your stubby little gremlin hands away from my property!”

“These stubby little gremlin hands are going to call Eight for you,” Four said. “Unless you’re too much of a  _ coward _ to do it yourself.”

“I am! That’s literally the problem here!”

“Well, it won’t be a problem if you’d just give me the frickin’ phone!”

Four lunged, and Three quickly pushed up against the wall of the cabin, holding her phone out of reach. Four crash-landed onto Three’s lap with a soft ‘oomph,’ and then Three pushed her off, sending her tumbling to the porch.

“Ow! Rude!” Four rubbed at her backside, pouting up at Three.

“You know what else is rude? Trying to steal my phone.”

“Look, will you just call her already?’” Four clambered back onto the bench. “We’re getting nowhere with this.”

“God, fine!” Three spat, pulling her phone back down in front of her face. Her finger hovered over the call button. “Four I can’t do thi—”

Four nudged Three’s elbow, and her finger hit call. The phone began to ring.

“Son of a—” Three took a deep breath, and put the phone up to her ear. “Thanks.”

Four beamed at her. “No problem!”

After a second, the ringing got cut off, and Eight’s voice chirped through the speakers.  _ “Hello!” _

“Hey, Eight, it’s Three,” Three said, trying her very best to stay calm. “How are you, uh. Doing?”

She cringed. Four gave her a double thumbs up, but Three could see in her eyes that she was also cringing, just internally. Three appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

_ “Hey Three! I’m just sitting at my house. Pearl and Marina are out doing their routine propaganda videos.” _

Propaganda? “It’s called the news. Up here it’s not actually propaganda.” Four made a wishy-washy gesture with her hand, and Three added, “Debatably.” That was fair; some of those sponsored messages really pushed the boundary. Especially those new GrizzCo ones. “Anyway, I, um, was actually calling to see if, maybe you, see, wanted to, uh—”

Four facepalmed. Three leaned back and pinched the bridge of her nose, hating herself more with each word she uttered.

_ “Are you okay? You seem on guard. Are you in danger?” _

Oh, shit. “No, nothing like that. I just—” She took a deep breath. Four placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Look, I wanna go on a date with you maybe?” 

The words fell out of her at terminal velocity. Eight didn’t say anything right away, which made Three nervous, so she decided to just keep going. “To like the mall? We could like go to the arcade and eat lunch or something. Have you been to the arcade yet?”

_ “What’s that? It sounds fun.” _

“Oh, it totally is. Well, mostly. Sometimes it's full of a bunch of fucking kids who don’t understand how to take turns and scream all the time”—Four gave her a ‘stop talking’ gesture—“but that’s usually only on weekends so we should be good.”

Three pulled the phone away for a second to whisper, “It’s true, shut up!” at Four. She brought it back to her ear just in time to hear Eight’s response.

_ “Well, I’d love to go!” _

Three felt a blush rise. “Oh, r-really? Great!”

A pause.  _ “Yeah! It'll be nice to see more of Inkling culture. And it's been a while since I last saw you.” _

“Yeah, it has. Well, I'm super glad I didn't, like, freak you out or anything. I'll come by and pick you up tomorrow at 10, is that okay?”

_ “Mmhmm! Should I bring some of that money stuff?” _

Three thought about it for a moment. “Uh, yeah, if you could just ask Pearl for some that'd be great. God knows she's got bank to spare. See you tomorrow!”

_ “Bye!” _

Three hung up and slumped in the bench. “Oh my god that was so stressful.”

“You did it!” Four exclaimed. She went in for a hug, then quickly thought better of it, and offered a high-five instead. 

Three returned the gesture with a slightly dazed slap, then allowed herself a small smile. “I’ve got a date.”

Four threw her hands up. “You’ve got a date! Am I the best wingwoman or what?”

“I just hope it goes okay,” Three said, the doubt managing to creep back in.

“Are you kidding? You fought an army and then infiltrated and escaped a top-secret evil research facility. If you got through all that alright, then how bad could a single date possibly go?”

“I guess,” Three said, getting up. “Well. I’m gonna head home. Thanks for… being here.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

“We’re not friends!” Three called over her shoulder as she approached the grate.

“Oh come on!” Four shouted back. “Is this still about the pineapple bacon pizza thing?”

“And the rocky road ice cream! And your taste in movies! And that one hat you wore last week! And—”

“Weren’t you leaving?!” Four yelled, kicking a rock across the clearing. “Go! Git!”

Three flipped her off, then flopped into the grate.

* * *

**A tad less than a year later…**

_ “All that shit I went through as a kid, agreeing to save the Great Zapfish on a whim, bouncing from job to job, running from my identity—just, everything, all of my stories, they all—they all feel like setup. Just to lead me to you.” _

Three’s eyes blinked open. She saw shiny red tentacles in front of her, sensed a warm body next to hers, heard the early morning traffic on the streets below, and felt cold concrete under her body.

She groaned and rolled over, then felt her side dig against a hard stone corner. Ugh, what the fuck? She sat up—she was with Eight, on top of their apartment complex. Oh, right.

She nudged her girlfriend with her foot. “Hey, Eight. Wake up.”

“Hnng?” Eight blearily rose from her slumber; she locked eyes with Three and smiled, then took stock of her surroundings. The smile disappeared. “…We fell asleep on the roof, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Three said with a snicker. “That’s what we get for coming up here at like two in the morning. C’mon—let’s get back inside.”

They walked hand-in-hand down the stairwell and back into Three’s apartment, passing by the half-eaten wedding cake on the kitchen counter as they entered the bedroom. 

“We’re not doing anything today, are we?” Eight asked. 

“Nah,” Three said. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Good.” Eight grabbed Three’s wrist and pulled her into bed, where they snuggled up against each other, the bed sheets tangling between their limbs. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m just gonna snuggle you all day,” Three said, grinning into Eight’s neck. 

“We don’t have to keep it to just snuggling,” Eight said. 

Three laughed a little. “Right.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” Eight said. “Like, sleeping on chilly rooftops because we’re dumb, for example. I just want to spend some quiet moments with you.”

“Mmm.” Three hummed and scootched upwards on the mattress, pressing her lips against Eight’s. It was a quick kiss, but Three sort of doubted it would be the only one they’d share today. “I love you,” she said.

“Wanna make out?” Eight returned, under her breath.

Three laughed. She was never gonna live that one down. “Oh, shut up. And yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's that.
> 
> Holy shit guys, thanks so much for reading... all of this? Like, wow. I never expected to get this deep into this fandom--not even close--but I'm so glad I did. Operation 24 is coming close to its one year anniversary, and like, it's just been a huge part of my life for so long now. I had a ton of fun writing this, and I made so many amazing friends because of it. Thanks to everyone who kudoed, or commented, or sent me asks on tumblr, and especially to those of you who've been fucking around on a discord server with me for a few months now. You're the real ones.
> 
> Good bye! It's been fun.


End file.
